


Judas Kiss

by kriegersan



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Biting, Coercion, Consent Issues, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Felching, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Scent Kink, Squick, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 65,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriegersan/pseuds/kriegersan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can see you. I know what you need.”</p><p>(Pre-PW. Kaz attempts to regain some control over his new boss. And himself.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stress

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, gas-lighting, coercion, casual interpersonal violence, abuse, smatterings of actual friendship (!), bisexuality. And jerking off. 
> 
> This is more or less set a few months after the [first encounter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3aoc9n3F6g).

He’d really just been intending to slip off for a little while, a quick suck and fuck in a dingy room for rent by the hour. Wasn’t that the entire point of letting the boys loose in the palapas for the night? A morale boost, some R&R, though Kaz isn’t exactly resting or relaxing, too busy arching his hips up into his choice of partner for the night, sweat trickling down his brow, moist and hazy in the heat.

She leans forward, the dark tips of her breasts just inches from his mouth, and he leans up to take a nipple in his mouth. Just before he catches sight of the figure darkening the door, and he’s pushing her aside to safety, reaching for where he’s stashed his gun, when Snake just grunts at him with disdain.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ You couldn’t knock?”

“I did knock. You didn’t answer. And it’s important.” 

The woman grips the sheet, tugs it off of them to cover herself, sitting back on her haunches as she looks uneasily between them. Kaz offers her what he hopes is an apologetic look, reaches for his pants. At the very least, Snake turns away to let them re-dress. 

Snake doesn’t wait for him as he leaves the room with more apologies, is already walking away. Kaz jogs to catch up, pissed off and horny, cock swollen in his pants, noticeable and embarrassing. He knots his scarf with quick fingers, stumbling to keep up to his boss’ punishing stride, starts talking. “You gonna tell me what the hell that was?”

He grunts. “New job offer.”

“And it couldn’t have waited until I finished getting laid?”

Snake stops abruptly, and Kaz slows several steps after. People mill around in the street, wild in the city nightlife, men in uniforms, drunk and bawdy, girls dancing with light in their eyes. 

Kaz shifts impatiently. 

“You asked to take care of the business side of things. We have business.” He pauses. “So I could use your opinion.”

Kaz opens his mouth to protest. Stops himself, mind switching tracks quickly. If Snake wants to take _his_ opinion into consideration, who is he to protest. 

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Are you?” he asks, dryly, causing Kaz to deeply frown. “In that case, get yourself under control. What use is a partner if he’s too busy screwing his way through the locals to do his job?”

“So, what, as your partner I’m never allowed to have sex again?”

“I didn’t say that.” He produces a cigar and lighter from the pocket of his BDUs, stares straight at him. “All I’m saying is, you have two hands.”

Kaz holds his gaze defiantly for a moment. Rolls his eyes. Then, he looks away. 

“Just tell me about the job already.”

Snake grins knowingly and lights up.

* * *

They’re moving again, their little ramshackle outfit hiding out in tents along the coastline, covered by the swath of trees overhead. The CIA’s been sniffing around lately, best to keep a low profile. It’s pouring rain, muggy and damp in the canvas tents, and Kaz is stripped down to his underwear, chest sticky with sweat and condensation.

He can’t sleep. Snake, as usual, dropped off the second he hit the ground. If he listens hard enough he can hear the men on watch outside speaking in reverent tones, just over the quiet din of the rain.

It’s been weeks since there’s been enough time for him to let off a little steam. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the boss was keeping closer tabs on him again, always seemed to interrupt just as he tried to sneak off for some ‘free time’. Their continued shared living quarters, initially to ensure Kaz wouldn’t try to push his luck, seem just a little too convenient in keeping him under his thumb. Being entrusted with the business side of things isn’t exactly a bad thing, and Snake’s steadily increasing reliance on his strategies, his presence is a bit of an ego boost. He’ll never admit it.

His mind wanders from business, to battles, to the fairer sex, the way that girl had felt so tight and consuming around his cock. She had beautiful eyes, laughed more than moaned when he’d put his mouth between her legs, pulled his hair and cried out. He can almost taste her, fingers creeping down his abdomen to tease under the elastic of his briefs.

Kaz looks over, but Snake’s back is facing him, rising and falling evenly with each breath. Asleep, then, good.

He feels like a horny teenager being so secretive like this, and though jacking off isn’t exactly some great secret in their line of work, doing it feet away from Big Boss without him awake enough to notice gives him a little thrill. Hadn’t he given him express permission, anyway? He doesn’t want to analyze how that knowledge makes his dick twitch, start to fill out.

His fingers push through his pubic hair, free hand moving to ease his briefs down and over his dick, leaves them snug up under his balls. Hand wrapping around the head, he moves the foreskin back a little. The tip of his cock is wet with precum, and he bites his lip as he works the tight tunnel of his fist slowly back and forth.

Kaz looks over again, and Snake still hasn’t moved. Still asleep.

He brings himself to orgasm damn near silently, only grunting quietly as it rocks through him, cum landing on the flat of his stomach, coating his fingers. It’s hardly as good as fucking into a woman, completing inside of her, hell, his hands aren’t even comparable. 

Breathing finally slowing, he reaches for a nearby gun rag, cleans himself off. Then, finally, rolls onto his stomach, settles.

In the darkness, Snake’s breathing changes imperceptibly.

* * *

It becomes a nightly thing, whether or not Snake is there, just to let out some of the tension in his body. He hasn’t masturbated this much in years, but the grueling pace his boss sets keeps him so on edge, he needs it. They bark at each other and argue over logistics, but find themselves agreeing frequently, albeit Kaz conceding more often, with a clipped tone. It’s maybe the closest he’s ever felt to having a place in the world. Right by his boss’ side.

Yeah, he’ll definitely keep that little thought to himself. He still doesn’t entirely trust him not to kill him if he steps too far out of line.

The weeks drag on as they pack up gear and move, as they spend more and more time draped over maps and intel, Kaz with his clipboard going over their inventory, personnel, or lack of it. It’s hard work, but he likes it, stays up in the low light sometimes just to crunch numbers, spread their already thin profit margin a little more sheer. They’re certainly not seeing the kind of money he has in mind. Not yet.

His boss must pick up on the stress, invites him to spar out on the beach in the low afternoon sun, the hottest part of the day. Kaz addresses the men, walks off with purpose, finds Snake waiting for him shirtless in only his uniform pants and boots.

“Right on time, Kaz.” 

He’s never been self-conscious when it comes to his body. Hell, it’s more like an invitation to preen a little. Besides, there’s no one else there to see it. Just the two of them.

Kaz slips his fingers into the knot of his scarf, the fabric sliding loose with a gentle tug. “It’d be stupid to keep you waiting. You’d probably just hunt me down.”

Snake smirks. Kaz knows he isn’t that far off the mark.

It’s always terrifying, the kinetic crush of raw power, when Big Boss starts running at you at full tilt. Kaz feints, twists on his heel to slide out of his trajectory. Sand kicks up under his boots, and he grunts as his boss’ huge hand strikes the flat of his forearm, coils, sends him spiraling to the ground. He already feels the strain in his shoulder as he’s unceremoniously yanked off his back, molded back into position, Snake blankly regarding him as he waits for Kaz to retaliate.

And Kaz does, ducks low and charges the muscles of his legs, throws his weight at center mass. If he could just get him down, make him bleed, if he could pin him _just once_. 

They throw each other around until they’re dripping with sweat, sand in rough layers over their skin, the hard muscle of Snake’s bicep compressing the column of Kaz’s throat. He can feel Snake’s torso pressed hot and hard against his back, every single point of contact where their bare flesh is touching, grunts as the pressure increases, face pushed into the grit beneath them.

“Had enough yet?” rasps his boss, and he has the gall to sound _amused_ , the substantial weight of his hardened body bracketing Kaz, immobilizing him.

Kaz sputters, kicks hard and struggles, catches the angle of a knee with the heel of his boot. It’s enough for Snake’s grip to falter, for him to scramble just out of reach and try to get up to his knees. He’s tackled again, has enough sense to raise his hands and try to deflect, Snake’s massive palms effortlessly collecting his wrists, pinning them tight to his chest. 

Snake straddles his torso, strong legs holding him down and Kaz pants, pulls in deep breaths to try to collect himself. He can’t move for shit, and _God_ , it just feels good to have someone sitting on top of him. Someone touching him. Bare skin on bare skin.

Fuck, he’s gonna have a whole other new type of humiliating problem to deal with if he can’t get himself under control, soon. 

“Okay, shit, ow-- you win, Snake. Come on, ease up.”

“No winning or losing, Kaz. This is just for fun.”

“For fun,” he parrots, aviators slipping up to set uncomfortably on his brow bone. “I’m learning more about you every day, Boss.”

Snake shoves Kaz’s hands away, slides off of him. “I said you could call me Snake.”

“But you’re the boss.” He sits upright, gingerly brushes the sand off his chest and back. “The men all look up to you that way. It’s important to set precedence.”

“You have a point. But you’re not like the rest of the men, Kaz.”

This considerably perks him up. “Oh?”

Snake looks down at him, so tall and godlike from where he’s looking up from the ground. He reaches down for Kaz, who willingly takes the hand, lets himself step into his boss’ space for a moment, feels the body heat radiating off of him so close.

“You have the spirit of a warrior,” says Snake, larger than life up close like this, hands clenched together between them. Kaz gets a little bit lost in his lone, steely eye. “You have the vision we need to bring this dream to life. It’s why you belong here.”

“You, uh... flatter me, Boss. Thank you.” 

Snake’s fingers reach up to grip down into the meat of his shoulder, a squeeze of acknowledgement. Kaz inhales just a little too sharply.

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Kaz. Break one of my chokeholds, then we’ll talk.”

* * *

It’s almost getting embarrassing how much he needs this. It’s been days traveling in the sun to their next job, sleepless nights, already sensitive eyes bleary from the heavy smoke of Snake’s cigars. His fingers are calloused and rough from all the physical labour, but his hips still jump predictably as he grips his cock through his underwear. It’s a little earlier than he usually retires, paperwork a legitimate excuse, still dark enough that the insides of the tent are deep and untraceable. But he’s alone for once. A rare commodity in their line of work.

Though he’s not exactly shy, there’s something about the very presence of Big Boss that makes him second guess his every action. Makes him hang off of his every word for the slightest bit of approval. It’s more than a little pathetic. 

He doesn’t want to think about himself like that with his cock in hand, leaking and hot against his palm. Kaz grits his teeth, looks down the hard line of his chest, where his hips disappear beneath the covers. Thinks about how much better it’d be with someone else looking back up at him.

The entrance swaths open with a gentle shift of canvas, then, just as he’s starting to get into it. His hands retreat back to the flat of his stomach, and he sighs, and just laying there for a moment trying to listen to Snake move around in the night. 

He makes almost no noise at all. If under duress, Kaz might admit he’s both incredibly impressed and slightly terrified by this fact.

Snake finally lays down, faces away from him.

Kaz breathes. Closes his eyes. He’ll just have to wait.

“You didn’t have to stop on my account.”

This low gnaw of humiliation starts from being so easily found out, quickly backed by pride, because he’s a man, for fuck’s sakes. He has needs. Beyond that, it’s unlikely Snake had never heard a fellow soldier jerk one out in their bunk, had probably seen just about every type of cock there was to see in communal showers in any of his various stints. It’s just par for the course in their line of work. Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen him naked, just never in such a vulnerable position.

His fingers creep lower.

It doesn’t stop Kaz from feeling a little weird about it, kind of thrilled. Knowing Snake knows he’s fucking his hand just a few feet away from him, only a layer of fabric concealing the slide of his fingers.

When he comes, stifling the moan into the crux of his elbow, he lets his eyes wander to the back of his boss’ head. He’s only a little disappointed that he isn’t looking back. Just a little.

* * *

“ _¿Estás fuera de su mente?_ You’re asking far too much. For the last time, we will not accept your offer at that price.” 

“Well, I guess that’s that, then,” replies Kaz, looking to his right, where Snake is chewing on the end of his cigar, expression illegible. 

Kaz leans forward, plants his hands on the table as he rises. The would-be client follows his ascent with a sour expression, and his men start whispering between themselves. Kaz knows he has them on the hook. 

“Word of advice-- you might want to invest in some flood lights. Without the well-trained night vision of a soldier of MSF calibre, you have almost no chance of pre-emptive threat detection.” He produces a shit-eating grin. “You know day transport’s too risky, and all that jungle… you’ll never see ‘em coming. It’d take, what, maybe only five, ten guys to surround and seize an entirely defenseless, _expensive_ convoy of that size? Ballpark. Then again, lighting yourself up like that could draw unwanted attention. But hey, what do I know? You’ve clearly got it under control.” He neatly tips his head. “ _Buena suerte_.”

Snake stands, gaze panning over the room, then turns to follow after Kaz as he turns away.

Just out of earshot, he growls, “Kaz…”

“Just trust me,” he shoots back, quiet, all clenched teeth, swaggering effortlessly towards the doorway.

Hurried conversation ripples behind them. 

He slows his step just as his fingertips touch the door frame, wait for it. Wait for it.

“ _Mierda!_ ” A fist collides solidly with the wood of the table, cups and pens clattering noisily. “Wait. We have weapons-- perhaps we could arrange some sort of deal.” 

Kaz spins on his heel, is a little startled to find his boss so close by, doesn’t let the surprise show on his face. Gripping Snake’s shoulder to drag him back to the table, he laughs, “See, I knew you’d reconsider.”

He settles back into the chair, eager to draw out a contract. Snake chooses to remain standing behind him, tall and looming like an obelisk in the low light. 

Much later, he’s alone in their latest makeshift command center going over routes and checkpoints when Snake tracks him down. 

He barely looks up. “Oh, hey, Snake.” 

Escort detail is hardly the most difficult job, one of the more common contracts in their repertoire. Still, Kaz prefers to be over-prepared, to have an answer for everything. Not to mention the added benefit of impressing his boss with his work ethic. Maybe convince him to loosen the leash a bit.

“Got a closer look at the goods. M16A1’s, good condition.” He grins, smooths a hand over his beard. “I have to hand it to you, Kaz, you’ve really got the gift of the silver tongue.”

“That was nothing.” Kaz shrugs, continues working as his boss takes the seat opposite, rickety wooden chair creaking beneath his considerable weight. “Wear your desperation on your face like that, you’re pretty much asking to get hustled.”

“Hm.”

“The price I offered them in the first place was, in fact, ludicrously high. We came out of that with a pretty sweet deal!” Kaz smirks, leans back, legs spread shamelessly. “There’s this saying-- ‘Push the background to the foreground and the facts underground’. The stronghold in that area got cleaned out by the government a few weeks back. Just some stragglers left, really. They were so concerned about the money they didn’t even consider the possibility that I was completely full of shit.”

Snake looks at him across the table, unreadable.

Kaz smirks. “Like I said, they were asking for it. Don’t offer yourself up so easily, or you’re just begging to be used.”

* * *

A successful op calls for booze and cigarettes, card games, beachside bonfires, old war stories, talking and reminiscing about women or comrades left behind. Newer recruits try to worm their way closer to the man himself, shameless in their praise.

Big Boss, ever the father to his men, listens to them joke around, warm bottle of beer in hand. Kaz’s already feeling the booze, guitar balanced on his thighs as he plucks odd notes, lit only by the waning firelight, the stripes of moon through the sway of trees. He stays far enough away to be out of the conversation, close enough to listen in.

He’s still breaking his playing off every so often to watch the men interact, make mental notes about their squads moving forward. His mind never stops working, he can’t afford it, needs to be on his game if he wants to turn MSF into what he dreams it could be. If he wants to build his legacy.

If that’s what he wants, what he _truly_ wants, well. He’ll have to lose a lot more than just free time.

The liquor burns as it hits his throat, too sweet, too something else. When he looks up, he finds Snake staring back at him from his place among the men, watching him. Kaz sets down the flask, wipes his lips with the back of his hands. Continues playing, even as his boss moves away, comes to settle down heavily next to him in the sand.

“Still working, huh?” 

“Is it that obvious?” 

“I can see you watching. Evaluating. Taking stock of the men’s morale, how well they listen to one another.” He grunts. “Who has the potential to cause trouble, or to lead.”

“I suppose. But you’re still working, too, aren’t you?” he asks, picking out a few notes with the tips of his fingers. 

“What did you say last time-- you’re ‘learning more about me every day’, wasn’t it?” The sharp click of a lighter, the resulting pungent scent of a cigar. 

Kaz takes a deeper breath, steels his nerves.

“I am, Boss.” A pause. “Learning how... _incredible_ you are.” 

He pointedly sets the guitar to the side, leaned up against the flat of his thigh. Looking over, Snake’s face is dark, shadowed in the firelight, pinpointed where the tip of his cigar blooms with heat. He looks like a monster, like something out of a night terror, lone eye sharp, face obscured by that wild, coarse hair. 

So Kaz might be a little bit enamoured.

“Hn?” Snake, at least, seems taken off guard. Interesting.

“I mean it.” He doesn’t. “The way they look up to you. They trust you entirely, they’d do anything for you. Hell, on that mission today, just having you there was like-- it was like the glue holding it all together. I’ve never seen anything like that. It’s like you’re their hero. You inspire that kind of devotion in them.”

He snorts, shakes his head. “Kaz, don’t be a kiss ass. It doesn't suit you.”

“I wasn’t--”

“Every man, every soldier is here because he has a need. It’s our job to meet that need, in the way that only people like us know how.” Smoke billows through his nostrils, clouding the air surrounding them. Kaz’s eyes water in response. “We do that, and they’ll entrust us with their lives. Their deaths. Nothing heroic about it.”

“I guess you’re right. They need MSF as much as we do.”

He can almost convince himself that he’s here entirely of his own will. It doesn’t feel an awful lot like freedom yet, but it’s getting easier to talk himself into it. Easier every day. 

Still, he scoffs. “But I don’t think they’d be here if it wasn’t for you.” He certainly wouldn’t. He’d be dead.

A broad palm thuds heavily between his shoulders, and Kaz rocks forward at the blow. His boss laughs, rises to his feet. “Get up. Come with me.”

He trails after Snake down to the oceanfront, a little sloppy from the booze, pulse starting from the promise of what’s to come. Most one-on-one time with Snake often turns into some sort of learning experience, one usually beaten into him. He’s still got the bruises from last time to prove it.

It’s unsurprising that Snake’s surefooted despite the alcohol, shoving his mostly finished bottle into the wet sand. It stands upright like a landmine against the slow lap of waves.

Snake stops, turns to face him about a foot away. He grabs for Kaz’s shoulders, centers him, reaches for his fists to bring them up to his face in a defensive stance.

“Boss, why are we out here? Shouldn’t we--”

“Hit me. As hard as you can.”

“ _What?_ ”

He grins, stands back. “You get one free shot, Kaz. You better take it before I change my mind.”

Kaz raises an eyebrow, bends at the knees to settle into stance. “No catch?”

“No catch.” He stands tall and arrogant, like maybe Kaz won’t actually take a swing. “I know you want it.”

And he does want it. Wants to spread his nose all over his face, wants to sink his fist into bone and cartilage, feel the wet suck of his wrecked eye socket caving in against his knuckles. Equally wants to kiss the bruises, the light brush of lips on skin. Find out all of his secrets, who he really is, down to the deep void where a soul is supposed to be. He wants to know him better than anyone else. Wants to hold that ammunition against him.

Still, there’s nothing to gain out of hitting a man who asks to be struck. It’s almost like being pitied, like Snake is making it known the only way this happens is _if_ he allows it. It makes his blood boil, makes him scowl, fists clenching in the air. 

Snake levels him with that napalm stare. “What are you waiting for? Kaz, it’s--”

Kaz sucker punches him in the face with as much force as he can physically pull from his body, fist swinging sharply into his mouth, knuckles splitting over the sharp edge of teeth. Snake grunts, takes another hard jab to the cheek, catches the next blow with his electric fist before it can land. 

He finds himself on the ground too quickly, Snake on top of him, trying to get an arm around his neck to pin him into submission. He’s getting better at this, spears a hand against his windpipe, uses the leverage of his joints to break the hold.

It’s a real fight, yet almost playful, and Kaz actually finds himself enjoying himself, the swell of Snake’s muscles against his own, the raw power between them as they roll over one another. He winds up on top just as often as under his boss’ crushing weight, likes the feeling of his strong hands grappling his arms, flat against his chest, the slap of a palm against his cheek, sharp and biting. 

His shades are lost to the sand by the time he ends up on his back for good, Snake panting over him, all split lip and red teeth. Blood drips from the sharp line of his nose down and off onto Kaz’s cheek, a droplet against the corner of his mouth. He flicks his tongue out to taste without thinking. A little part of his boss to keep inside, to study.

Snake’s forearm closes down on his windpipe again, and Kaz can’t fucking help it, he starts laughing, wheezing, really. It’s _fun_ , he feels closer to his boss than ever, like he’s really starting to understand his language. When Snake’s rough baritone joins in with him, there’s this flutter in his chest like victory, his warm breath fanning over Kaz’s face, forehead to forehead.

“Kaz,” he says, through ragged breaths. “Look at me.”

He does. The pressure on his throat eases up slightly, and he gasps for air, digs his heels into the sand. 

“I can see you. I know what you need.”

Snake bears down, his mouth slight inches away.

“You proved to yourself that I can still bleed after all. You can taste it. I’m not a hero, I’m not a legend. Not someone who’s going to save you from yourself.” A hand curls behind Kaz’s head, seizes the hair at the base of his skull. Pulls hard, the breath pushing out of him, forces him to look straight into that eye. He releases, palm sliding back up his neck to his face, strokes back the hair at his temple, the action startlingly gentle amidst all the violence between them.

“I’m just a man. Just a _soldier_. Try not to forget that.”

It occurs to Kaz then, and only then, with Snake’s hard body pressed so tightly against his own, that maybe he hasn’t been approaching this from entirely the right angle. 

He smiles to himself, then promptly nails his forehead into Snake’s beautiful, smug face.

* * *

Kaz sports a black eye and a busted lip for the better part of the next week like badges of honor, can’t hide the purpling bruises around the socket, even with the glasses and ‘fuck off’ look visible from miles out. If there’s any type of gossip seeping out among the men, he makes a point not to hear it, runs them ragged in drill to drive it into the ground.

Not that he goes any easier on himself, steps his game up, every moment spent fleshing out his-- _their_ \-- business plan, making slightly dirty deals, or putting his feelers out into the shadiest corners of the surrounding area for new work. Word travels quickly enough that MSF is open for business, and Kaz learns quickly enough what kind of clout name-dropping his boss comes with. What it means to people. He ads it to his repertoire, files it away like every other little tidbit of knowledge he possesses. He shows his hand only when convenient to him.

Still, he sits on those words, _just a man_ , thinks, starts doing a little personal recon. Careful observation tells him that Snake is at least interested in other people’s bodies, will openly look at a nice pair of tits, a tight ass. He doesn’t seem to discriminate, men and women, but never acts on it or encourages. It makes sense given the reluctance to admit the number of women he’d bedded, the strange naivety, but it isn’t like he’s unattractive, couldn’t fuck one if he tried. Keeping everyone at arm’s length, then.

He’s charismatic, can get a soldier to surrender deeply personal information with barely a fragment of a sentence. He never offers up any experience of his own, not anything that isn’t already out there, already legend. The men never quite lose that smitten look on their faces when he tells them exactly what they need to hear.

Kaz isn’t entirely sure he isn’t bearing the same expression these days. He keeps his shades firmly in place at all times.

The rainy season sets in before too long, drowns out their newest base, a little more permanent, ‘liberated’ from some traffickers. The remaining two men had joined up after a short ‘conversation’ with Big Boss, and it’d taken the better part of a day to scrub the blood of their former comrades out of the hardwood. Pretty nice place, otherwise, though.

New place meant more room. While going over bunk assignments, Kaz had put a giant question mark over their continuance of their shared quarters. When confirming with Snake, he’d only been a little surprised at the nonchalant, “If you think it’s a good idea to stick together, then sure,” he had received in response. 

At least trusted him not to run away, then. Trusted him to make the decision for them. He shouldn’t have asked in the first place.

At the time, Kaz had reassured, only moderately flustered, that they were a united front, after all, had to keep up appearances for the men while they were so small and disjointed. Snake had agreed. For morale. 

Like any good businessman, Kaz realizes it’s wise to strike while the iron’s hot. As it were. This is how he finds himself in his cot, t-shirt pushed up under his armpits, hand massaging his dick through his briefs, shameless.

Snake’s about two feet away from him, flat on his back in his respective cot. They’ve been more or less in sync the past few weeks, his boss always a few steps ahead. To the casual observer, at least.

He sucks his lower lip in between his teeth, relishes the wet sound of his mouth, wants to make it graphic. He’s gotten bolder, pulls the blankets low enough to expose his bare chest, his abs. It’s goddamn obvious what he’s doing, and he’s sure Snake isn’t really sleeping. Hasn’t been sleeping. He’s sure of it.

Precum beads at the slit of his cock, and he presses a thumbnail into it, catching the moisture to smear it over the crown. It sounds wet and filthy as he works his palm down the length, and he groans, pulling hard on his way back up. 

He almost forgets to look over, _almost_ , stops dead when he finds that singular eye boring back at him. Right through him.

“Boss,” he hisses, dick twitching in the grip of his fingers. 

And here he’d thought he was in control of the situation. It was what he _wanted_ in the first place, but with Snake staring nakedly at him like that, it suddenly feels like they’re playing an entirely different game altogether. “Are you… watching me?”

“Getting pretty hard to ignore with all that racket you’ve been making. I think you might want me to notice.”

Snake turns onto his side in the darkness, props his head up to watch. Kaz stills his motions, but his cock doesn’t soften in his hand. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Still, he doesn’t move. 

“Kaz.”

His fingers twitch of their own volition, and he squeezes, voice catching in his throat. He’s not going to deny that kind of command, not in that tone of voice. Not from him. His free hand slides up his chest, up his neck, his face. Fuck, he wants someone to touch him.

Hips fucking up into his hand, he drags the bunched handful of t-shirt up into clenched teeth, using it like a gag, exposing the length of his body. The room slowly blinks to life around him, the stench of cigar smoke makes him harder, still, left hand flattened over his pecs, fingers teasing his nipple.

He’s starting to sweat under the confines of the heavy cover, cock slick in his hand. His boss picks up on it, like he always does, he should just expect it by now. He makes a low noise, exhaling smoke in heavy, suffocating clouds. 

“You can move the blanket, you know.” 

Kaz obeys without really thinking about it. It’s what he wants, isn’t it? To entice him, to wrap him around his finger. Appeal to the man in him. Right. If there was anything human inside him left at all. 

He kicks the blankets down, lifts his hips to settle down with his thighs spread just so. His cock is hot as a brand in his fingers, leaking messily over his knuckles as he pumps the shaft a few times to show himself off a little. So maybe he likes the attention.

The slick at his cockhead glistens in the deep light, and he imagines he paints an alluring figure. He closes his eyes, back arching off the cot, abs tensing as he fucks into his hand. 

“That’s a nice dick. Thick, uncut.” Another full inhale of smoke, and Kaz’s breath hitches, he cracks open an eye to look him over. He doesn’t hold eye contact. “Had me fooled. Here I thought you were overcompensating for something.” 

He only falters for a second. Right, Snake’s never seen him hard before. Never looked, really. He’s just this side of bigger than average, he knows that. Measured himself. Still, he gets in his head a bit at the words, twists his hand around the tip and pulls back. The glans swells as the foreskin retracts, dark red and full with blood and so fucking hard. His dick is _nice_. 

He lets the shirt out of his mouth, the damp fabric snapping down to cover his neck and chest. “Didn’t-- ngh-- know I was being evaluated on my performance.” 

Snake scoffs. “You practically asked for it by being so damn ostentatious.”

“What can I say?” He exhales noisily, toes curling as that hot feeling crawls up the base of his spine. He could listen to that man talk all night. “Part of my charm, isn’t it?”

“Sure.” 

“And I think you like it, Boss.” He laughs breathlessly, all sound punched out of him by how damn close to the edge he’s riding. His boss’ voice reverberates through his flesh, his bones, he feels his balls pull up tight as he tenses. “Ah-- fuck.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the wet slide of his hand moving, his harsh breaths. He feels like he might implode.

“That’s it. Let it go, Kaz.”

For some reason it’s his approval that pushes him past the point. He moans, shoots over his stomach, his chest, his hands, breathing hard through his nose as his body lifts off the bed. It feels like it lasts forever, like he’ll never be able to escape this moment. His head feels fuzzy, chest labouring with each breath, because damn if that hadn’t been one of the more unexpectedly intense sexual experiences he’d ever had. And his boss hadn’t even laid a hand on him.

He’s still coming down from it when he finally hazards a glance over at Snake’s face. His expression is as blank as ever. Still staring straight at him, focused and alert.

His hand releases his spent dick, swipes the ejaculate off from around the tip with his thumb. He’s about to clean it off on the blanket when Snake grunts, interrupting him, then shakes his head in the darkness. 

“Not like that. Use your mouth.”

Something burns in his gut uncomfortably, but his hands move, regardless. He drags his thumb and forefinger up his torso, then sucks them into his mouth, tasting himself. Salty, but inoffensive. Not nearly as offensive as Snake talking him into debasing himself like this. But it was what he’d wanted, right?

Right?

Kaz doesn’t stop until his fingers are clean and shiny with saliva. Then, tucks himself back into his briefs, pulls down his shirt. And waits.

Snake continues to smoke. Silent moments pass, Kaz laying flat on his back, still uncovered. He can’t quite relax. Can’t get a good read on him like this. Doesn't know what he wants from him.

So, he starts, “Boss, I--”

“Get some rest, Kaz. You need it.” He kills the cigar with the blunt edges of his fingers, the light dying out of the room. There’s some deliberate noise as he re-adjusts, and the room goes deathly silent once more.

Kaz huffs. And struggles. And proceeds to sleep like a fucking baby.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing these two. I'm excited. Please let me know if there are any inconsistencies or errors! If you liked, please kudos or review. You can find me at highandholy.tumblr.com to join me in hell where I agonize over sad, horny Kaz.
> 
> Expect an update soon. This is a three parter!


	2. Pull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Consent issues, face-slapping, canon-typical violence, war mongering, emotional manipulation, Dom/sub, bad BDSM etiquette, more friendship (!!!). You know, usual BB and Kaz things.

It’s the slow creep of silence that sets him on edge. It’s always the silence.

Kaz peels his body off the sweaty recruit in his hold, looks sidelong where the other men are training in a group a few meters away. There’s a tight wall of shoulders, the men circling around whatever the hell’s happening just out of his line of sight. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he pushes away from his group to gain on the other.

“Hey,” he starts, low and warning, as he squares up behind them, hands on their shoulders to wedge his way through. “ _Move_.” 

He’s not wholly surprised to find a fight, one of their newest recruits, a big guy, not unironically titled Mouse, and Alligator, who’d been with the boss since before Kaz’s ‘recruitment’, scrabbling together on the ground. A real fight, then, not just the practice drills he’s been running over the morning in their boss’ absence.

He stands back for a moment, these things typically work themselves out-- fighting is only natural, after all. Still, it doesn’t particularly look like either of them are pulling their punches, Mouse slugging Alligator in the head, before he’s got a leg swung around his waist, flung back into the dirt. There’s a quick flurry of hands, a grunt, hissed expletives. First blood.

It’s then that he spots the glint of metal between them, and Kaz starts, yells, “No _don’t_ \--”, before the knife rips through Alligator’s throat. Blood arcs into the air in thick spurts, and Alligator gurgles, hand shooting to cover the slash, Kaz bearing down hard on Mouse’s shoulders, shoving him off.

A few of the guys manage to pull Mouse away, get the knife off him. Kaz slaps a hand down over Alligator’s throat, feels the blood gushing and pulsing against his palm with each beat of his quickening heart. A medic throws himself to his knees alongside Kaz’s flank, takes the place of his wet palms, and it's just enough time for Kaz to go from zero to sixty, instantly fucking furious, ready for someone to _hurt_.

“What the fuck was that?”

Another new recruit, desperately holding onto his resisting comrade, interjects, “Commander--”

“Shut up.” 

He stalks forward, reaches for Mouse’s hair, where he’s held steady by two of the men. Kaz pulls his head back to look at him, finds defiance, finds rage burning blistering degrees hotter than his own. He’s not sure why that pisses him off so badly, but he reels back, slams the flat span of his knuckles into Mouse’s face. 

“ _Answer me_.” He hits him again for good measure, pulling his hair to get him to look at him, bleary eyes meeting the cool barrier of his shades. “You think you can just do whatever you want, kill whoever you want just because you fucking feel like it? His life isn’t yours to take!”

“It’s not yours either. You’re not the boss,” Mouse spits, blood and mucus trickling in thick gobs down his chin. “I won’t take orders from you. _Chinga tu madre_!” 

He spits then, a fat gob landing on the breast pocket of Kaz’s shirt, sliding wet and viscous downward. He wipes it off with a scoff of distaste, flicking the spittal to the ground. 

Then he nails him hard and fast in the mouth again with a clenched fist. And again.

And again. It feels good. Just to hit someone else, make them bleed, make them _pay_. The most primal kind of satisfaction. 

“Commander--”

The gratifying crunch of cartilage, an echoing groan of pain. His arm is starting to ache.

“ _Kazuhira_.”

He stops then, panting. The man in front of him is barely clinging to his consciousness, nose caved in, hanging in the arms of two increasingly concerned soldiers, who are eyeing Kaz with some hesitation. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to do that. To go that far.

He draws in a shaky breath, wipes the sweat off of his brow with his forearm. Turns around. Slowly.

“Boss.”

“What happened?” he asks, unperturbed, effortlessly parting the crowd of men gathered to watch the scene unfold. Kaz’s eyes uneasily dart around behind his shades, and he screws a smile onto his face, placating and ready with as many explanations as he can get away with. The knuckles of his right hand are split, slick with blood.

“He tried to kill one of our men. Slashed his throat in front of everyone.”

“Who? I don’t see anyone.”

Kaz swallows thickly. There’s a dark spot in the dirt where he’d left Alligator bleeding through the fingers of their medic. Drag marks, where he’s been taken off to the med tent, boot prints, from men who aren’t Kaz. He hadn’t given him a second look once he had eyes on his target. 

He’d just left his man on the ground like that to die, preoccupied with petty vengeance. 

“I--” He stops. He’s already embarrassed himself enough. He pointedly stares straight ahead.

Snake scans the faces of the group, walks past Kaz to where his men are holding Mouse mostly upright. He pats a shoulder or two, nods his head. “Go get him cleaned up, make sure he doesn’t choke to death on his own blood. Put him in the brig for now, I’ll have a chat with him later.” 

“Boss!” They salute, then set off with their charge, hanging limp between them.

Kaz’s hands clench and unclench at his sides.

Snake paces a semi-circle around Kaz, like he’s closing in on him, ready to strike. Then, looks to the rest of the men, his audience, eagerly awaiting the next scene in this little play. Some look away as his weighty gaze meets theirs, others holding it like they’ve got something to prove. 

He smiles, showing enough teeth for it to be somewhere between warm and threatening. “Something on my face?”

The remaining men straighten, stand at attention.

“No?” A pause. “Then, as you were. Let’s keep all the sharp objects to ourselves this time, shall we, boys?”

Following some uneasy laughter, they get back into grapples, throwing one another around with decidedly more care. Other than the blood drying tacky on his hands, his uniform, it’s like nothing happened at all. Nothing at all. Kaz almost catches his breath.

Almost.

“Commander.” Snake jerks his head vaguely back in the direction of their nearby camp. “A word?” He turns off, heading to HQ without waiting for Kaz to respond.

Kaz catches up quickly, close to his boss’ heel. Eager little dog that he is.

His heart’s in his throat the second the wooden door creaks shut behind them, the papers on the command table ruffling from the change in air pressure. Everything settles. His boss is a few feet ahead, back facing him, motionless. It’s quiet again. Kaz anticipates punishment, starts to brace himself. Starts to agonizingly prepare his defense.

“Boss. Let me explain.”

He receives no response. So, he closes his damn mouth and waits, standing there inches from the doorway. There’s a startling part of him that wants to run.

“Commander Miller,” his boss starts, the hard wall of his back still the only thing visible, “when I brought you on, I understood I would eventually have to address your particular set of deficiencies. I suppose now’s as good a time as any. Don’t you think?” 

He bristles. “Deficiencies?”

His boss nods, looks over his shoulder like he’s just remembered Kaz is there at all. He begins to remove his gloves. “You’re young, Kaz. Hot-headed. Sometimes you let your emotions get the better of you.” He chuckles. “It’s only natural. But it can make you look weak.”

There’s a tension in Kaz’s face where he’s clenching his jaw so hard it’s starting to hurt, but he stands proud and tall as his boss turns to face his direction. He won’t back down. There’s blood on his hands and he won’t back down.

“Boss-”

He raises a bare hand to silence him, not even looking at him. Then he sets the gloves on the table with a soft flap of leather. Kaz grinds his teeth. Glares. Waits.

“We don’t discipline our men with excessive acts of violence. Your actions could be perceived as a lack of control over the situation.” He tilts his head, gaze finally pinning him, keeping him in place. “A lack of control over yourself.”

That pisses him off beyond anything else. He’s in control. He’d only reacted like any sane man would, in that situation. Kaz spits, “So, what, was I supposed to just let him cut a fellow soldier’s throat without any repercussion? Congratulate him for a good kill, just let him walk away? No offense Boss, but _fuck_ that.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“He was insubordinate. He fucking spat at me, he deserved every hit I gave him. I wasn’t gonna let him speak to me like that in front of the men.”

He takes a step back as Snake steps forward.

“You’re right. He _was_ insubordinate.” 

Aggression flares within him at Snake’s continued dancing around the core of the conversation, he wants to lash out, but he won’t take the first swing. He knows his boss would break his neck if he even dared, but hell if he isn’t aching for a real fight. Wants to beat that smug expression of superiority right off his face.

Snake doesn’t speak for a moment, takes another step forward into Kaz’s space. He begins to roll his sleeves up in deliberate, sharp folds. 

“You need to learn how to reign in your anger, Kaz. Focus it. If you want the men to submit to you, look to you as a leader without seeking the best spot to stick a knife in your back, they need to be able to trust you. They need to respect you. Like you, even. I’m disappointed that you, of all people, hadn’t already figured that one out.” 

He takes another step forward. Kaz feels his shoulders graze the wall, his back flattening out against it. He draws in a sharp breath, mouth going dry.

His boss reaches for his neck. Kaz flinches. Snake’s bare fingertips barely graze his Adam’s apple, before lowering to his scarf, tugging it gently into place. 

“What?” He grins tellingly, pulls the scarf straight against his collar. “Kaz. Relax.”

Kaz draws in a shaky breath, lips pulling into a crooked smirk. “Kinda thought you were gonna hurt me for a minute there, Boss.”

His boss looks him dead in the eye. “Do I look like I’m gonna hurt you?”

He honestly doesn’t have an answer for that. 

Apparently pleased with the presentation before him, Snake makes a point of fixing Kaz’s collar, then smoothing the fabric down on his shoulders. He doesn’t back away. Doesn’t speak. God, Kaz can’t get a good read on him like this, while he’s being fussed over like a mother would a reckless, filthy child.

“Boss,” he starts, desperately searching for the words he wants to say. He finds none. All he can spit out is, “I-- I’m sorry.”

Just like that, all of the tension sluices out of him. He feels impossibly fucking weak, _beaten_ , can’t look him in the eye. Can’t even pretend through his shades. He averts his gaze, worrying the inside of his lip with his canines. 

He feels a light touch under his chin, and he turns his face into it. Snake is staring at him with that same intensity, addictive, encompassing. He’s pinned.

Snake’s free hand settles on the wall next to his head. He leans in, and instantly Kaz feels lightheaded, the stench of leather and cigar smoke clouding his senses.

“You’re forgiven.” He lightly pats the side of Kaz’s face. It’s a little patronizing, and yet, Kaz’s eyes flutter shut behind his shades. His lips part. “I know I won’t have to have this conversation with you again. Right?” His palm, so broad and hot, slides down to cup the side of his neck. 

Kaz forces himself to draw in a steady breath through his nose. “Right, Boss.”

Both hands drop. Snake stands upright. Kaz comes back to himself.

“Besides,” says Snake, slowly, deliberately, “it’s thanks to you that Alligator gets to wake up tomorrow. I caught the medic when I was on my way down to meet you-- he told me what happened, said it looked a lot worse than it could've been. Your quick thinking saved his life, Kaz. He’s gonna be fine.”

Kaz shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Still, I should’ve caught the damn knife in the first place. You would’ve.”

“Don’t waste your time worrying about bullshit hypotheticals. I want you to focus your energy on finding a solution for our little morale problem.” Snake pivots, heads towards the door. “In the meantime, I have a ‘performance review’ to attend.” He chuckles. “Come find me later.”

When he leaves the room it’s like the innards and entrails have been ripped right from within it, leaving only a carcass, a shell. Kaz sags against the wall, heart ricocheting against his ribs. If he’d ever deserved to have the haughtiness smacked out of him, that had been the moment. And yet he stands whole and complete, despite having utterly humiliated himself, and his boss by extension.

He covers his face with his hand, curls into himself. Exhales noisily through his parted fingers.

_Come find me later._

Kaz raises his head, straightens his shoulders. He can fix a problem. 

He’s good at fixing problems.

* * *

It only takes a little asking around, buttering the men up with cigarettes and paper packets of candy snagged from ration kits, for him to get a better understanding of what exactly had occurred earlier; Alligator’s old unit had been responsible for the death of one of Mouse’s buddies a few years back. An eye for an eye. Stacking the squads based purely on skillset without taking any biases or histories into account had been an obvious blunder on his part. They were flesh and blood _men_ , not concepts on a clipboard neatly organized into place.

What a fucking idiot he had been. 

Kaz spends the rest of the afternoon shuffling the work detail around, re-evaluating placement. He studies personnel reports, mission reports, inventory reports, too many fucking _reports_ , seeks out his routine channels for any chatter about the men. He makes calls, does his usual sweet talking, weasels his way into a few potential client meetings in the following days. He doesn’t avoid Snake at all. Not at all.

He works until the sun’s long gone, until his neck is aching from his bowed stance, until he has a plan drawn out, a strategy. A solution. A mission is what they really need. 

Who the fuck is he kidding, what they need is more _money_. No better incentive for a bunch of cutthroat mercs to play nice than money. 

It’s stretching into the earliest shades of predawn by the time he finally drops his pen, leans back. He takes his shades off, thumb and forefinger pressing into his temples, and sighs. 

He’s not gonna be able to avoid him forever.

Their shared room is quiet when he enters, Snake a jagged shape in the darkness. Kaz sets his shades on the table neatly, starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re gonna be miserable tomorrow with so little sleep.”

He scoffs, shrugs off his overshirt. Folds it, then starts on his boots. “What can I say? It was a busy day. I lined us up a few potential jobs. And I made some changes to the unit assignments and training regime I’d like you to approve in the morning.”

“Hn. You’re telling me what I like to hear, Kaz.”

“I live to impress,” he responds, with only a little bit of sarcasm, peeling off the rest of his clothing. He folds that, too, then stacks it neatly. 

When he finally lays down on his back, he’s still thinking. Can’t really get his brain to stop. He could move Stingray onto motor detail, maybe, he was from the same region as Falcon who more or less led that section, could probably build a stronger bond between the two of them. Falcon was a natural leader, could keep Stingray on task, keep him focused. And--

“You seem tense.”

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re laying there staring at me in the dark.” 

“Nah, not staring. Just looking.”

Kaz laughs softly, lets his arms rest overhead, stretching his stomach and chest out, lower back arching. “What, were you expecting a show or something?”

“I just think it would be good for you.”

His breath catches in his throat, dick swelling and thickening between his legs. “You gonna order me to jerk myself off, Boss?” he asks, half-joking, half-anticipating. Just putting it out there like that.

“If you need me to make it an order. Sure.”

“Asshole,” he mutters. Kaz turns his head, looks over, but his boss just a concept in the night like this, a suggestion of a person rather than someone real. 

Snake laughs. “Kaz, just get your dick out already.”

He just does as he’s fucking told. Just like that. He’s a little humiliated and a lot exhausted, but his traitorous hands don’t waste any time seeking out his cock, and he pushes the covers down and out of the way because he wants Snake to see him this way. Shameless.

It’s not until after he’s licked his own release off his fingers, glistening with sweat over his neck and chest, that Kaz sighs contentedly and says, “I’m starting to think this is more for your benefit than for mine, Boss.”

He receives no response. Nothing, aside from a slight catch in his boss’ normally deep, even breathing. 

Interesting. Very interesting.

* * *

“--so what I’m saying is, take the north-east route. Yeah, I know, heavier patrol, but I think you can handle it. Quicker in and out. You don’t want to waste time fucking around in the jungle if things get hairy.” 

Kaz sets down a steaming mug of coffee in front of Snake, rounds the table back to his chair. When he crashes down he’s more than a little aware of the fatigue in his bones, too many hours spent studying topology and routes around their most recent job. A hired hit. Not exactly the most ethical job they’ve taken. But hey, money.

“Lot less cover, too,” says Snake, taking the mug. He smooths a hand over his beard, leans forward for a better look. “I don’t know, Kaz.”

“Trust me, I’ve been staring at this fucking map for two days straight. We can have a fireteam set a diversion by the outpost here,” He taps his pen on the map, “to draw attention away while you move in and take out our target.” 

“Hm.”

“Yes? No? I mean, whatever you want. You’re the boss,” says Kaz, not at all sarcastically. Not at all like he hasn’t been busting his ass on this for going on 48 hours now. All of the energy just drains out of him, and he leans his head back, staring at the wood paneled ceiling. 

His boss chuckles. “Tired?”

“No, just-- lots of planning. Surprisingly, a private army doesn’t run itself.” He sits up, rubs a hand over his forehead. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you work too hard, Kaz?”

“I don’t think literally anyone, _ever_ , has said that to me. Think I could’ve worked myself into an early grave and my mom would still be hitting me with her slipper as they lowered me in, telling me to go wring out a few more coins.” He shuts his mouth as soon as the comment makes it out, this weird surge in his gut, mentioning her so casually like that. Still, he smiles, feigns nonchalance, jots down a few notes on his clipboard. “But now I’ve got you for that.”

“So that’s where you get that ball-busting attitude from.”

He snorts. “I guess.”

“Single mother?” 

It sets him on edge, a little, giving Snake access to this information. Still, he continues, cautiously, “You think so?”

“Don’t see many Japanese with blonde hair and blue eyes.” He raises an eyebrow, reaches into his breast pocket for a cigar, then slides it into the corner of his mouth. “Your father was American.” 

“Yeah.”

“Left after the war, I’m guessing.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Must’ve been hard for you growing up there, looking like that.” He lights up, nudges Kaz’s smoking kit towards him on the table. “Here.”

Kaz stares at it, suspicious. “What?”

“I think you’ve earned a break.” Snake smiles roguishly around the cigar. “Don’t worry. You’ll feel it when I bring on the slipper.” He relaxes into the chair, thighs spreading, knees wide. “Mine’s bigger.”

Kaz’s eyes narrow, but he reaches for the kit, regardless. Once opened, he pulls out the kiseru, balancing the long, thin pipe in one hand. “Why the curiosity about my fairytale upbringing all of a sudden?” They don’t normally talk about this kind of thing, least of all while evaluating strategy, talking business. “Not like you to get so personal.”

“I’m interested, Kaz,” he says, sliding his chin into his hand, leaning casually on the table. “You’re interesting.”

He’s _interesting_. His fingers shake a bit as he rolls the loose tobacco in his hand, loads it into the bowl. He reaches for the matchbox, but finds it in Snake’s hands, too quick for his eye to catch. 

Kaz glances at his face, looks back down. Bows his head, leaning in.

“Well, then. Glad to have your interest, Boss,” he answers, before he can quite think it over. Snake strikes the match with a glint in his lone eye.

With the match in his cupped hand, Snake offers the flame to Kaz first. Kaz steadies the pipe as the match dips down, smoke curling in fine plumes above. Then, Snake lights his cigar, shaking the match out with a sharp flick. 

“So where is she now, then?” he asks, around thick billows of deep, grey haze. 

“She died. A few years back.” Kaz shrugs, letting the smoke flow through his nostrils. It reminds him of home, of her. Probably why he does it less these days. But smoking with Snake, just sitting, enjoying the simple pleasures of life, well. It feels nice. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Kaz.”

“No, she--” He shakes his head, tries to banish the lump in his throat, “she was sick for a long time. I don’t think about it anymore.” He tosses his head back disdainfully, pulls in a lungful of smoke. Feels himself start to unwind. “Besides, the past isn’t going anywhere. Best to shut the door on it when it’s not needed.” 

“I see.” Snake tilts his head, and it reminds Kaz a little of a friendly German shepherd. Disconcerting, given his knowledge of the other man. Strange. “Well, I’m curious about your skeletons. Whenever you feel like peeking back in.” 

“Boss, what are we, a pair of bored housewives? Come on, you don’t wanna hear about my shit.” 

“Kaz, I’m telling you that I do.” 

He scowls. “Yeah, well, I don’t really-- shit, I don’t know.” He doesn’t know why he’s talking about it. “I don’t really talk about it.”

“I couldn’t tell,” replies Snake, dryly, dark head wreathed in smoke. He pulls the cigar from his mouth, sets it into the ashtray, cherry red, leans both elbows on the table. He’s closer like this, enough that Kaz can smell him, stale sweat and coffee, smoke and leather. “Kaz.”

“What?” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, guarded as they are. 

“She’s a part of you. Shutting her up into some dark place in your mind won’t make the loss hurt any less.” 

Kaz’s jaw locks. “And talking to you about it will?”

His boss pauses. Then, he starts to laugh, really laugh, reaching for his cigar. “You got me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Kaz replies, exasperated. The contents of the pipe are down to dusty ash, and he haphazardly taps the contents into the tray, setting the pipe into the holder. Break over. 

Kaz leans forward, nudges the cooling cup of coffee out of his way. “Now--”

“The north-east road. You had a point. Strategically, it’s the better move.” Cigar nestled between pointer and middle finger, he gestures, “I think the diversion is better suited further out, past the checkpoint. Draw the sentries further out into the foliage. It’ll break their line of sight, keep them busy longer.”

Kaz breathes out slowly, and calmly. 

“Great. So we agree on that plan?”

“I think it’ll work.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “Shall I go brief the men?”

“Sure. If you can do it without that shitty look on your face.”

Despite everything, that’s what manages to make Kaz crack. He laughs nasally, boyishly before he can catch himself, smiles, ducks his head. His boss’ massive hand claps down on his shoulder, squeezes, slides down to his chest. “Ah, come on, Boss.”

“This is fun, right?” 

“Fun,” he answers flatly. They stand, Kaz with clipboard in hand, teeth glinting, Snake grinding the cigar out into the tray. “Try telling that to any of the poor bastards on your ‘fun’ side in a fight.”

Snake swings an arm around him, pulling him snug against his side. His arm is too warm, too heavy, but hell, for Kaz it feels like he belongs there, at his side. Under him, bearing that weight.

“You never know, Kaz,” Snake murmurs, steering him towards the door, “Maybe I can convince ‘em to come join the party.”

* * *

“ _What the hell is that_?”

“The target.” Snake hefts the considerable weight off his shoulders, dumping the unconscious body into the backseat of the Jeep. 

“I can fucking see that, Snake, but why is he _here_.”

He vaults in over the guardrail, shoving the target into the corner of the seat, signals their driver, Stingray, with one hand. Keeps his M16 firmly pressed into his shoulder, scanning the blurring treeline as they pick up speed. Alert. 

Kaz hisses, “Boss!”

Snake reaches over, curls a big hand over his head. Pushes him lower in the passenger seat, his knees banging against the underside of the dash. “Get your head down. We’re not in the clear yet.”

“Can you explain to me why you have our target unconscious _in the fucking recovery vehicle_ instead of, y’know, dead? Like we’re getting paid to do!?” 

“If they’re paying us that much to kill him, I thought it might be a good investment to keep him alive.” 

“So what am I going to tell the client? Tell them to they have to pay up for a job we didn’t do?” 

“I’m sure you can figure something out.”

Snake’s eye narrows, and he adjusts his hands slightly, looks down the sights. His finger moves ever so slightly to the trigger. He doesn’t pull it, crouching, just waiting and listening. No signs of the enemy, no noise aside from the low hum of the engine, the trees rustling in the sleepy breeze.

The radio trills in Kaz’s earpiece. He brings his fingers up, answering, “Miller here. Talk to me.”

“Commander,” answers the breathless voice of Rabbit, intel team, tinny and far away in his ear, “They know you've got the target. I have eyes on a team headed to intercept your vehicle at the next checkpoint. Ten, maybe twelve men.”

“OK. Get out of there for now, make sure you’re not followed. We’ll deal with them and reconvene at the rally point.”

“Affirmative.”

The radio crackles and disconnects, and Kaz turns in the seat, eyes on the broad back of his boss. “Boss, we’re expecting compa--”

There’s a crack of gunfire, closer than he’d expected, and Kaz’s eyes follow where his boss is already taking aim into the treeline. He sits up, firearm at the ready, it’s just suppressing fire, they’re not going to hit anything with no line of sight like that. Snake takes a shot, and there’s an echoing scream in the distance. The driver picks up speed, swinging them around a corner through the next narrow dirt road, blanketed in great sweeps of rainforest overhead.

More shots pepper the side panels with the clang of metal on metal, Kaz and Snake returning fire. Kaz can’t see anyone in the cover of darkness, but they can’t keep going, can’t run the risk of being followed. The vehicle banks hard, swerves, and it’s only a second to realize that Stingray’s taken a direct hit to the shoulder. Kaz’s hand snaps out to catch the wheel before they can run off the road, overcorrecting, Snake rocking with the motion behind him.

“Keep it steady!” Snake hollers over the grind of gears, rattling off another round. Kaz pushing the injured man out of the driver’s seat, crawling over his lap, quickly taking the wheel. He guns the engine, takes a deliberate hard right through another path, the wheels bouncing as they batter down the uneven terrain.

They burst out into the open, out of the swath of trees, and the din of gunfire hushes down into snapping branches, the roar of the engine, heavy breathing. Kaz starts to ease up on the gas, take stock of what had happened. Stingray is clutching his arm, eyes tight with pain, the only thing visible in the slits of his balaclava. 

He slows to a stop as they roll up to an abandoned shack, enough cover to take stock, catch their breath, if only for a second.

“You good?” Kaz asks, receiving a stiff nod as an answer, before looking over his shoulder. “Did we lose ‘em?”

Snake finally lowers his rifle, still scanning the path behind. “Maybe.”

“We don’t want ‘em to follow us.”

“Right,” replies Snake, gruffly, stepping over the wheel well, boot hitting the dirt. He reaches for another magazine, reloads, looks behind him. “Head to the rally point. I’ll catch up.”

“We’ll wait for you up ahead, Boss. Contact me on the radio if you need me.”

Snake taps the wheel well twice, starts off. Kaz watches him disappear into the shadows, then turns away. Drives.

They’re another five minutes out when he hears their target come back to shaky consciousness where he’s been crammed in the back seat. His breathing picks up, quick and panicky, and he sits upright, struggling where his hands have been tied. “ _Qué chingados_!? Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

There’s a moment where he strongly considers just knocking the guy out again, and he even catches Stingray looking over at him like he’s waiting for the order. Hell, he should really just fucking kill him. 

But the businessman in him recognizes that Snake has a point. This is an investment. He’s not about to devalue their new property.

So, instead, Kaz looks over his shoulder, offers him his best, practiced ‘friendly’ smile. “Relax. You can call me Commander Miller.”

“Fuck you, I’m not calling you--”

“Yeah, well, you will. You better be damn grateful you’re still alive right now. We were actually hired to kill you.” He shrugs, haphazardly, eyes on the road. “I mean, if it was my choice, you’d be back there bleeding out in a ditch. But the boss must see something in you worth keeping around.”

“The boss?”

“Vic Boss,” Stingray supplies thickly, holding his arm with wet, red fingers. 

“You mean… _him_?”

“Congratulations, you’re his newest recruit. You’re part of MSF now. You fight only for yourself, from this day forward. Consider this your welcoming party.” He nods his head to the man in the passenger seat. “Get him a party hat, won’t you?”

The target’s eyes go wide with confusion. “Party ha--”

The bag comes down over his head with a sharp jerk of fabric, muffling the sound of his sudden anguished calling. Stingray fights with him for a moment, injured arm almost useless in its current state, before duct-taping the bag around the base of his neck. He shoves him down in the backseat, before returning to his own, breath straining in his chest.

There’s this weird feeling in Kaz’s throat that he mostly manages to tamp down. Doubt, maybe. Like he’s locking this guy into the cage with him, sealing his fate.

Kaz’s eyes meet their reflection the rearview mirror for a moment, catching himself. He looks away.

* * *

Half-drunk already, exuberated, joking around with the men, he’s _included_. Hell, he’s the fucking center of attention and it’s impossible not to soak it up, not to drink it in. This kind of camaraderie is new to him. Kaz laughs just a little too loudly, crosses his arms, mouth of the beer bottle coming to rest on the edge of his lower lip, chin down. He’s stance is haughty, loose with liquid courage, but he’s got a group around him leaning in, asking questions, and he just can’t help himself.

“I can’t believe you talked her into that. You make it sound so easy, Commander,” says Jackal, the scars in his face deep in the firelight, “No one else here has your pretty boy face, though. I’m sure that has a hell of a lot to do with it.”

“Hey, now, I can’t help the fact that the ladies like me. But I’m telling you, it’s really not that difficult to get laid.” He smiles effortlessly, gesturing with the bottle in hand, “You just need to learn a little bit about the meaning of reciprocity. Give and take, you know.” 

Give, meaning the beachside bonfire he’d spent the better part of the afternoon cobbling together, budget loosened by their recent cash flow. Take, meaning the truly brutal psychological breaking he’d witnessed his boss give their would-be target, newly designated Swordfish, leaving him stricken in the brig back at their encampment. 

He’d called their client up when he’d gotten back to base with sweat beading on his forehead, simply said they’d taken care of it. He’d been a little legitimately surprised at the confident response he’d received, the immediate wire transfer of the full payment. Snake’s reputation preceded him, as it usually did. 

But the air is warm and Kaz feels light, talkative. He feels untouchable. Hell, Mouse, fresh out of the brig, broad nose misshapen, had skulked over earlier and apologized. Profusely. Kaz had assigned him latrine duty for the next month, turned him away without really looking at him. 

Untouchable.

“A girl wants to feel like she’s special. Desired. Like she’s the only one you’ll ever look at, ever really see. Even if you had your dick in her best friend just a few hours earlier.” That certainly earns him a bout of laughter, pause for effect, before he continues, “It’s a basic principle in any type of exchange. If you want someone to give you more than they otherwise would, you give them something first. Be _generous_. They’ll feel obligated to either match it or raise it.”

“So, you mean--”

“Yeah, you idiot, if you want her to let you do whatever you want, you put your head between her legs _first_ and eat her like it’s your last goddamn meal!”

God, the explosion of laughter, the jibing, the good mood fanning further out among the men, ripples meeting and converging through their ever-growing organization. He could certainly get used to this. 

Another one of the men picks up the conversation, and Kaz ducks out, turns back to one of the lonelier crates they have set up as a slipshod bartop, laid out with a generous spread of food and booze. His fingers catch the top of a fresh bottle. It’s soon pulled loose from his hand.

Snake eyes him plainly, popping the top with just his thumb. He’s only a little turned on by the casual display of strength. Only a little surprised to find him there, waiting like some kind of wayward shadow. Not that he should be, anymore.

“Hey, Boss.”

“Kaz.” Snake pauses, looking him up and down, evaluating. “I couldn’t help but overhear your very interesting theory.” 

Kaz raises an eyebrow, taking the beer when offered. 

“Well, I learned a thing or two in college.” He smirks. “I guess you could say.”

Snake steps into his space, looming overhead like a cliff face. “I don’t want you to give the men the wrong idea, that slacking off, fucking around is what we do here.” 

Instantly, the fuzzy edges of his world start to refocus, the buzz receding. “Boss, I wasn’t trying to--”

“--Especially after such a successful mission. Free time, bonding over shared experience is important for morale, yes, but we can’t let them lose focus on what we’re trying to build here.” He smiles, something genuine that makes Kaz’s whole body burn. “You paint too vivid a picture with that smart mouth of yours.” His eye dips down, Kaz’s lips part softly, before he catches his eyes again. “You distract them.”

His breath hitches in his throat, his face feels hot. He schools his expression into a cocky grin. “You know how it is, guy talk.”

Hell, it wasn’t like _he_ even had the opportunity to sneak off to fuck around. There were eyes everywhere. 

His boss chuckles. “I’m just messing with you.” 

For some reason, Kaz can’t even be angry, not even annoyed, it’s so like him. So like him. He watches for a moment as his boss pulls a knife from his leg holster, flips it easily in his palm, then surveys the bowl of fruit nestled between the bottles and flasks. He selects a mango, fitting neatly into his big hand, starts slicing through the thick rind, juice dripping through his fingers. Kaz can’t help but watch. He just can’t help it anymore.

“I think maybe you’re always ‘just’ messing with me, Boss,” he mutters, taking another pull on his beer, eyes following the practiced movements of Snake’s fingers.

“Is that what you think?” 

Snake’s grin goes crooked as the knife slides easily through the inner flesh. He cuts off a thick slab of the fruit, raises it to his mouth, takes it off the metal with his teeth. Then, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He starts the process again, and it’s like agony watching him, like being flayed alive, Snake’s fingers shiny and sticky and wet.

“Yeah, it is. And I think you like watching me trip all over myself trying to impress you.”

“And in saying that, Kaz, my only reply is that it’s painful to hear how lowly you value yourself. You’ve more than earned your place here.” He drags the knife through the soft interior of the mango, another drippy chunk resting on the flat of the blade. “You don’t always need to try so hard to prove yourself to me.”

Kaz’s hand shoots out to clasp his thick forearm, feels the sudden contraction of Snake’s muscles, the anticipation there. Kaz leans in, closer, calculated, forces himself to hold his steely gaze, dragging the knife to him. He dips his head, feels Snake tense as his tongue flicks out to graze the edge of the fruit, teasing it with his teeth. 

The swell of his lips brush the pad of Snake’s thumb as he closes his mouth over the mango, tasting steel, before he retreats by bare centimeters. He chews the fruit deliberately, teeth clicking, juice trickling down his chin. He releases Snake’s hand, lets it drop slowly between them.

“I do, Boss,” he murmurs, voice thick with something he isn’t quite sure of, himself, “I _really_ think I do.”

It’s the first time he’s ever seen something resembling discomfort on his boss’ face, the way his eyes flick down to his mouth for a moment. A small victory in that fraction of a second. 

“Commander, come back here and take a shot with us!” 

The men laugh, just far enough in the distance to be completely oblivious to what had just transpired between them. Snake’s eye finds his again, and Kaz smiles, tips his beer, turns away. Leaves him standing there, mango dripping sweet and wet in his fingers.

He drags himself out of Snake’s orbit with considerable effort, turns his attention back to the men. It feels good to be called back to the group, to be _part_ of it. And yet, there’s this anticipation in his chest as he walks away, and he can feel his boss watching, feels the pressure of his stare on his shoulders as the late hour stretches on.

The festivities eventually taper off, the night undisturbed save for the occasional burst of drunken, sleepless laughter. The patrol shift changes. Fires burn into dust. 

Waves lap at the sand before him, Kaz sprawled out on the beach, feet bare. It’s too warm most nights, leaves him overwhelmed, suffocated, but it’s peaceful near the water. Starlight overhead.

It’s good, to be alone. Solitude, a comfortable paradigm for him. He’s spent so much time around people lately, it’s good to just be alone with his thoughts. If only for a moment.

And a few intel reports to review. Work keeps his mind from drifting too far off into places he’d rather not go.

When Snake wordlessly drops down in the sand beside him, he can’t even be surprised anymore about being followed, about being snuck up on. Instead, he sighs, looks sidelong at the pensive expression on his boss’ face. “I know, I know,” Kaz starts, already sifting papers back into the folder, “I should--”

“Don’t pay attention to me. Just do whatever you were doing.”

Just like that, whatever he was planning on saying, the words die in his mouth. Kaz shakes his head, can’t help but smile a little, this twitchy thing he can’t banish from his lips. “What, you just want to sit there and watch, or something?”

“You’re not that far off the mark.” Snake’s brows furrow, and he leans forward in the sand, forearms on his knees. 

“Ah?” replies Kaz, intelligently. He turns his gaze back to the water. “You’re screwing with me again.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Asshole.”

Snake shoves him. Kaz shoves him back. They both jostle each other around for a moment, before the folder slides off of Kaz’s thigh into the damp sand, and he stops to rescue it from the grit. “Hey, watch it! I need that, dammit!”

Kaz isn’t terribly surprised when the folder’s snatched from his hand, tossed up the length of the beach, safe from the lure of water. “Okay, now you’re just really being a pain in my ass, Snake, I need to--”

“You don’t need to do anything right now.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, wills himself to take a deep breath. “So, what, you’re gonna tell me what I _need_ now.”

“If I think you need to hear it. Yes.” The bastard even keeps a straight face as he says it.

Kaz sighs, settles back onto his elbows. “What a waste of time.”

“What, you don’t want to spend time with me?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” He laughs, genuinely, nervously. “‘Spending time’?”

“I like this, Kaz. I like you,” says Snake. 

The humor fades from Kaz’s face as he realizes that his boss is being completely honest with him. This rushing feeling permeates every cell in his body, and his face is hot with blood, pulse pounding in his ears. 

“I mean it.” Snake glances over at him, then turns back to the sky.

“Well… uh, thanks.” Kaz swallows, forces his voice down into his normal register, as that had been embarrassingly high. He tips his chin down, cautiously looks at Snake’s face, in a different light. He tears his eyes away just as quickly. “I actually... don’t really know what to say.”

“Hn, that’s a first.”

“Actually, yeah, nobody’s ever really told me--” Kaz stops. “Oh.” 

Snake’s eyes narrow. Kaz realizes he may have showed his hand, makes a point of looking at some suddenly very interesting rocks alongside his leg. 

“Kaz.”

“What?” He huffs, rolls his eyes, makes a whole show out of it before turning to meet his startlingly intense stare. “Okay, so people don’t go around telling me that they _like_ me all the time. I’m a fucking gun for hire, Snake, _Jesus_. I give people orders to kill other people. I don’t expect to be winning any popularity contests.” Quieter, “And I really didn’t expect to hear that from you.”

Snake looks at him like he’s trying to put the pieces together, like things are organizing and shuffling in his head. He doesn’t twist his words, doesn’t laugh at him for his less than dignified admission, even. Kaz rubs at his neck a little nervously, lowers his gaze. 

“So nobody’s ever told you that they like you? Not even as a little kid?”

“Oh, fuck off. I wasn’t really all that likeable. Imagine my temper now, times a hundred,” he mutters, bitterly, adding, “and in a smaller, more annoying package.”

“You think you didn’t have the right to be angry? Kid born into the world the way you were, split between two sides of a war.”

“No, I didn’t,” says Kaz, turning back to the water. The stars are just so damn bright. He sighs. “If anyone did, it was my mom. She could’ve abandoned me. Aborted me. She should’ve, really, I wouldn’t have blamed her.” The words leave him breathlessly, and he realizes that his voice is shaking. He clears his throat, forces a smile. “She gave me everything she had and I just threw it in her face.”

“Oh?”

Kaz nods. He doesn’t even know why he’s admitting all of this. It feels… good. Despite everything he knows about Snake, despite the fact that this should feel like danger, like dangling his arm into the jaws of a predator, he doesn’t stop the words from flowing out of him. “I left her behind to go to America.”

“You did what you had to do, Kaz. Don’t you think?”

“No, it’s what I _wanted_ to do.”

He pauses, tries to force the emotion out of his voice. “仕方が無い.” He slips into the accent, the language he mostly manages to conceal from others, feels more than sees Snake lean in closer. “Ah-- it means ‘nothing can be done about it’. That’s what I told myself. My mother was sick, I couldn’t do anything for her. I told myself there was something else, something better out there for me. Someone better. So I shut her up in a hospital and just… forgot about her. But I always had a choice, where she didn’t.”

“You left to find your father, didn’t you?” Snake asks, his tone belying nothing of his thoughts about Kaz’s feelings. He still watches with that steady gaze, like he’s osmosing all the information into the guarded catacombs of his inner thoughts.

“Mm, yeah, I did.” He can still remember the way he felt the exact moment he’d found that grainy photograph at the bottom of that drawer. The anger he’d felt at his mother for never showing him, anger he couldn’t face her with.

“So then was it really a choice? Or was it what you needed for yourself-- to find the answers.” 

“I don’t know, Snake. Maybe.” He leans back onto his hands, the sand cool under his fingertips. “Anyway… I don’t know why I keep bringing her up. I shouldn’t be telling you this. Don’t listen to me.”

“I think you needed to talk about her, Kaz.” His boss smirks, lone eye shimmering with thinly veiled amusement. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Kaz dares to shoves him first, this time. “Yeah, yeah, you know me better than I know myself. Shut up.”

Something sparks in his chest when Snake doesn’t hit him back. Instead, his boss just laughs, low and rough. He reaches over to grasp Kaz’s shoulder, and his touch is so grounding, so immediate. Intimate. The hand shifts to curve over the back of his neck, the flat of his palm cradling the dips of his vertebrae. His thumb strokes a steady path, back and forth. Snake _likes_ him.

When they return to their shared room a little later, it’s pitch black, muggy with the heat. Snake finds the gas lamp, switches it on, washing the walls in a warm, diffused glow. Kaz can hear the patrols outside, insects, palm trees swaying in the breeze, scraping against the roof. He focuses on that, as opposed to the absence of sound from Snake, keeps his back to him as he takes his shades off, then undresses.

The whole atmosphere feels charged, changed. He’d willingly opened up about his personal history to the man who’d captured him, held him down and forced him to submit. The same man who’d turned around and offered him a burgeoning empire with the hands he’d crushed around his throat. He’s anxious, to say the least.

Kaz looks over his shoulder, takes small, coquettish glances at his boss as he pulls his undershirt overhead. His naked back is broad, scarred, and Kaz can’t help but wonder how that thick skin would feel under his hands.

He lays down on his back in his shirt and underwear over the covers, stretches out. Hears the shift of the cot as Snake settles, and he only looks over when the light doesn’t immediately go out. His boss is still seated, shirtless, leaning back against the wall, knee up with his bare foot flat on the bed. Still has his pants on.

“What?” Kaz asks, hand smoothing his shirt over his flat belly. “Not tired?”

“I was thinking we could switch up our little routine tonight.”

A pulse starts from Kaz’s groin, spreads out through his entire body, fingers tingling. The temperature in the room seems to intensify by millions of degrees. “And what routine would that be?”

He chuckles. “Take off the rest of your clothes, Kaz.”

Kaz inhales sharply, reaches for the hem of his undershirt. It sticks to his under arms, ruffles his hair as he tugs it off, and onto the floor. He lifts his hips, slides his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs, pulls those down his legs. His dick is already hard and eager, curving up to his navel.

“Better?” he asks, breathlessly, sliding his hand over his chest. He’s horrified and exhilarated for whatever’s going to come next. Maybe those little pieces of information he’d given had been beneficial, after all. Maybe not.

This is the first time Snake’s seen him hard and aching in this much light. The stark visibility makes him a little nervous, and he doesn’t have his shades to hide behind. No barriers. Beyond that, Snake hasn’t answered him, looms like an unholy sentinel in the heady interior of the room.

Kaz turns his gaze to him, finds Snake looking, _staring_ , eagerly soaking up the sight of his bared, naked body. The interest is unguarded on his face, and it’s addictive, intoxicating. 

Still, he doesn’t speak. 

Kaz spreads his thighs a little more, reaches for his cock. He’s so hot in his hand, so hard. God, he’s so sick of his fucking hand, he makes this needy noise, hips fucking up into his grasp.

“So that's all you want to do, then,” Kaz asks tightly, looking down the length of his body, cock fisted in his hand, “is just watch?” 

No answer.

He pulls the foreskin back, presses his thumb into the slit at the tip. Gasps, breath shaky on the exhale. He can't pretend he doesn't want it anymore.

“Fuck, Boss. Can you come over here and just _touch me_ already?” 

There’s no response, no sound, other than the slick noise of his hand moving over his cock. He sucks his teeth, fears he’s asked for too much. He shouldn’t have asked.

But then, Kaz looks over, finally, meets his eye. 

“No. You come here.”

He tries not to sit up too quickly, doesn’t want to make it obvious how fucking eager he is for this. How desperate he is to be touched. Hell, men aren’t even really his thing, he’s dallied, who hasn’t, but this is Snake, this is _Big Boss_ taking an interest in him. This is more than a man. And yet, still, just that.

Kaz isn’t quite sure how to approach, but he makes a point to inject all the confidence he can materialize into his step. He’s already showed too much of himself, already embarrassed himself enough. He can afford to be a little shameless, cocky, fingers sliding down to display his dick. He has a reputation to uphold, here.

Snake leans back, looks up at him expectantly, blandly. Kaz sets his knee between his spread legs, reaches for his shoulders with unsteady hands. He quickly finds his wrists caught in an iron grip, just before he’s unceremoniously flung onto his back, grunting as the breath is knocked out of him. “What--”

“Keep your hands up here.” He holds both of Kaz’s wrists in one hand, then pulls them up over his head, squeezes them once before releasing. Kaz’s fingers hook over the edge, hang on. “They don’t move from this spot unless I tell you otherwise.”

“Uh… okay. You sure? I can--”

“I’m sure.” 

His boss offers him a look that Kaz supposes might be reassuring on any other face, but on him, it seems like a warning. He forces himself to take a breath, looks down, face burning just how fucking hard he still is. So turned on at the prospect of being jerked off by his boss.

“Spread your legs for me.”

He’s not usually the one in this position, and he hesitates for a moment. Still, he does it without questioning, pulling his legs up, his feet finding purchase on the cot. Snake kneels between his parted thighs, looks down on him, evaluating him, the same type of appraising look he’s seen him turn on a new rifle, a particularly lethal looking knife. Kaz isn’t quite sure how he feels about that comparison, but all rational thought shoots out the window as soon as his boss’ fingertips graze the hypersensitive skin of his inner thighs.

“I thought about this. About what I would do to you, when you finally worked up the nerve to ask me.” Snake settles a palm down next to his head, leans over him. Kaz feels the fronts of Snake’s thighs press up against the underside of his own, push them forward. If his boss just rocked his hips down, they would touch. But he doesn’t.

“You really thought about it?” Kaz asks. He can’t remove the hope from his voice. He’s always too honest this way. Naked.

Snake nods the affirmative, hovering over him. Kaz averts his eyes, it’s too intense like this, but a hand cups his jaw, hard, forcibly turns his head. Kaz defiantly looks at him, really looks, the milky blue of his eyes visible and bold without the protective shield of his shades. The eyepatch Snake wears is like a gaping black hole through his head so close like this.

“I did,” Snake answers. His thumb grazes Kaz’s lower lip, presses down on the swell of flesh. Kaz’s mouth parts gently, and Snake teases the pad of his thumb in, Kaz’s tongue darting out to taste. Not unlike his little display earlier, his skin is salty, rather than sweet. 

Snake moves his hand, pushes back the hair at Kaz’s temple. Then, he sits back onto his shins, hands trailing their way down Kaz’s oversensitive chest, his abdomen, which curls in at the light touch. They stop to grasp his hips, vice tight, Kaz’s breath catching, then move down over his thighs, slide inward, pushing them wider. Kaz’s pulse flutters, and he bites back a moan as Snake’s knuckles brush over the underside of his balls. 

Snake hasn’t even touched his dick yet, and he’s leaking precum all over himself like it’s his first time. Like he’s just gotten his fingers into a girl’s panties and he’s never felt anything so pure and honest in his entire life.

Snake’s hands settle on the hot skin of his inner thighs, cant his hips back. Kaz pulls his knees closer to his chest, as it starts to dawn on him what exactly his boss might want to do to him. Arousal shoots through him, dick twitching where it’s flat against his lower stomach, immediately followed by total mortification. He’s aware of the sweat starting on his forehead, his neck, under his arms. 

“Snake, I’m not that kind of guy,” he mumbles, trying to shove down the panic fighting its way up his gut.

“You asked me to touch you, Kaz. You don’t get to tell me where.”

That same thumb he’d tasted presses flat and insistent against his hole. He’s suddenly breathing a little harder, eyes flicking to Snake’s face, where there’s that same smug expression he _hates_ , that superiority. God, and here he is, spreading his fucking legs for him like-- like--

Snake raises an eyebrow, starts to press down, massaging the tight ring of muscle in small, deliberate circles. Kaz draws in a tight breath, eyes closing. It feels good. “Fuck.”

“All you have to do is ask me to stop,” murmurs Snake, his free hand sliding over the juncture of Kaz’s hip. 

“Would you?” Kaz bites, his fingers curling tight around the edge of the cot. His blood sounds like thunder in his ears, his heart is pumping furiously. He doesn’t tell him to stop.

“If I really believed it was what you wanted. Yeah.”

Kaz tries to laugh, but it comes out more of a whimper, as his boss presses down, testing the resistance there. He clenches reflexively, toes curling. Snake hums, free hand sliding to curl around Kaz’s thigh, pull him wider open, and he can’t even handle how he must look right now. Ridiculous. He turns his face into his shoulder, hiding his expression.

The touch leaves him for a brief moment, and he’s almost relieved, before it returns, slick. He hears the wet, carnal sound of his boss sucking saliva back through his teeth, then his index finger traces the sensitive rim of his hole, teases inward just enough for him to tense up.

“I thought you were just gonna play with my dick or something, this isn’t-- _ah_ \--” He can’t even continue the train of thought as a thick finger fully sinks into him, slow and methodical, halfway, before pulling out. The gentle teasing around the entrance drives him wild, his thighs flexing and releasing. “ _Boss_.”

He peeks out from under the safety of his bicep, looks up at Snake, whose eye is firmly fixed on where he’s penetrating Kaz, focused, where his finger has disappeared into the tight heat of his body. Snake’s body is primed, muscles flexing and shifting, chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He’s incredible. Kaz can’t stop staring.

He experimentally tenses again, groans at the ripple of sensation, and Snake presses deeper, until it’s inside of him up to the last knuckle. He twists his wrist, Kaz bucking up with a gasp at the sudden jolt of pleasure, nerve endings firing. Snake chuckles, starts a patient, steady rhythm with his hand.

“I wanted to know what you felt like on the inside. You’re so soft here.” He crooks his finger demonstratively, Kaz arching off the bed, _right there_ , scrabbling at the edge of the cot. Snake pulls back, fucks him more shallowly. “Hm. And sensitive.”

He slides the finger out, uses more saliva, comes back with two. Kaz’s voice cracks as they slide into his ass with a little more force, and he’s sweating, slick with it, thighs shaking with the effort of being held upright. His cock is leaking all over his belly, and he so desperately wants to touch it, wants to reach his hand down and just fist his dick until completion. 

Still, he doesn’t. He won’t lose here, too. Just takes it, Snake fucking his hand in deeper, opening him, debasing him. God, he wants him to touch his dick. He fucking hates how badly he wants it. It must show on his face, because Snake curls his fingers in, increases the pressure, spreads them until he feels his hole start to loosen. “Ask me for it.”

The squelch of fluid as Snake rotates his hand again, and Kaz’s spine arcs up, hips pressing desperately into the touch. His dick twitches, just dying for a little attention, and his hand starts to move without thinking. Snake’s hand snatches his wrist up before he can get too far, pins it, and he leans over, breathing down over Kaz’s face.

“Ask me for it,” he repeats, gathering Kaz’s other wrist, holding them down. 

“ _God_ , touch my cock.” He sucks in a deep inhale, rolls his hips back onto Snake’s hand, lost in it. “Just-- touch it, come on, Boss. I-- hn--”

“Beg me for it.”

His eyes snap open, and he lets the mirth flow through him, looks Snake straight in the eye. He doesn’t flinch this time. Even on his back, with Snake’s fingers steadily fucking their way into his asshole, Kaz won’t beg. He won’t. 

“Fuck you.”

How quickly his expression changes is fascinating, anger, indifference, then resolve, and Kaz moans as those fingers drive deep within him again, quicken their pace. “Then this all you get.” 

The hand leaves his wrists, slides down the length of his body, under him, spreading his ass further. Kaz can hardly stand it when the ring finger slides along the two already inside of him, teases, seeking entrance. He tries to relax as it pushes in, gaping around the three thick, rough fingers inside of him. His boss leans over to spit into his hole, and it should be disgusting, degrading, and yet Kaz’s face heats with how fucking aroused he is, and he clenches down. Feels the slickness as it’s worked into his skin.

Snake makes a pleased sound at that. He does it again, and the fingers go deeper, more insistent at that spot inside of him that makes his legs shake. The tension’s starting to build in him now, fuck, he’s really going to come from this, from being _fucked_ on his back like this, and Kaz shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut.

A light tap to the cheek, and he looks up, grits his teeth as Snake’s hand curls around his jaw, holds him steady, holds him still. “You look at me when I make you come.”

His hand shoots forward, coils around Snake’s forearm, and this time, Snake doesn’t just put it back. 

Kaz is startled at the sudden crack of a palm against the flat of his cheek, his face rocking to the side. His entire cheek stings, and he gasps, ass seizing down on his boss’ fingers, and fuck he’s so goddamn close, panting, aching for it, legs splayed wide, and his thoughts leave his mouth with little care, “Oh, fuck, hit me again, _please_ \--”

His boss slaps him harder, faster, head thrown with the force, before his entire body starts to shake, convulse. Snake’s massive hand claps over his gaping mouth, and he strains to breathe through his nose, eyes flashing wide as his cock jerks, fingers deep in his asshole, and he’s coming so hard and so fast that his mind goes static.

He’s distantly aware, somewhere, there are fingers still rocking in and out of his ass, Snake’s hand clamped over his chin and jaw, eye leering down at him. Snake’s so much closer to him than Kaz had realized, analyzing him, studying him. 

The hand cupping his face eases back, his fingers dipping into Kaz’s loose mouth, and Kaz lets his tongue out to meet each tip, lets his boss slide a finger in for a good, strong suck. It’s brief, though, the hand sliding away, only to strike him one last time, spit tacky against his skin, body seizing again, choking the last of his orgasm out.

He’s breathing hard, laying there, face hot to the touch, red. Cum rapidly cooling on his belly and chest. His boss sits back, gently pulls his fingers out of Kaz’s body, grazes his thumb over his swollen, loose entrance.

“Better?” he asks, dryly, sitting back on his haunches. 

Kaz struggles for a moment to speak, to find his words. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, feels his jaw creak warningly. “You fucking bastard.”

“You asked for it.”

He scoffs. He can’t deny that.

Still, he feels increasingly self-conscious as the moments stretch on, Snake’s eye boring down on him, the air heavy with expectation. 

When Snake doesn’t make a move, he sits up to his elbows, looks downward. Snake’s clearly hard and straining in his pants, he looks big, and Kaz licks his lips, tastes blood. “Boss, do you want--”

He shakes his head. Instead, his boss slides his fingers through the cum splattered on his chest, brings it to Kaz’s mouth. “No, I don’t _want_ ,” he says, flatly, the tip of his finger pressing against Kaz’s lower lip. He lets it in between his lips, tongue swiping out to taste, eyes closing. “You’re going to finish cleaning up your mess. And then you’re going to get out of my bed.”

There’s this pang in his gut that he identifies as disappointment. Like they were going to fucking cuddle or something. He pushes it somewhere deep in his brain, the same place his dignity went to hide, as he lays there, eyes closed, sucking his own cum off his boss’ callused fingers. 

When he’s sufficiently pleased, Snake eases his fingers out of Kaz’s mouth, then pats his cheek, gentle, condescending. “That was good. Right?”

“Whatever. Just let me up already.”

He crawls out from underneath Snake’s heavy form, steps out onto the floor on shaky legs. He’s barely even sore, just well-fucked, and it pisses him off how _easy_ he’d made it. He dejectedly steps into his underwear, slides on his shirt. Sinks face-down into bed and wonders how the fuck he even got to this point. 

Snake puts out the lamp. Darkness washes over the walls, and Kaz finally lets his face twist into this ugly, hopeless thing. If only for a moment. 

But nothing can be done about it. 仕方が無い.

“Thank you, Kaz,” comes the low, steady voice of his boss. His eyes open into narrow slits, and he mumbles into the bedding, turns his head away, “for letting me see that side of you.”

He wants to snidely respond, wants to attack. Instead, what leaves his mouth is, “You’re welcome, Boss.”

And in the morning, he sees the fine bruising on the high arch of his cheek, feels the swell of his mouth. And every time he sucks that fat lip tenderly in between his teeth, his boss is watching. Staring.

It doesn’t feel a hell of a lot like winning, but he wouldn’t exactly call it a loss, either.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *scuttles off*
> 
> (The Japanese that Kaz speaks is romanized as 'shikata ga nai'.)
> 
> You can find me at highandholy.tumblr.com to join me in the sin pit. Please review and/or kudos if you enjoyed.


	3. Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: More consent issues, more face slapping, excessive bodily fluids, vomiting, violence, gas lighting, manipulation, Dom/sub, bad BDSM etiquette, did I mention consent issues? The usual.

“--but hey, this is an improvement, Snake. A real mission, no more of that guard dog bullshit, with any luck. We’re moving up in the world.”

He sets the beers on the table top, takes a seat. The night’s alive around them with music and laughter, and he’s got a signed contract burning a hole in his pocket. Dollar signs in his eyes. They have a few hours to spare before a pickup, enough time for Kaz to have cajoled him out into the crowd, even if they’ve picked a particularly dark, private little corner to observe the locals.

“Rescuing hostages… hn. If we make a mistake, reveal ourselves, it’s their blood on our hands.”

“Yeah, but it’s _you_ , Boss. Come on. You won’t make a mistake.”

Snake glowers, but he doesn’t say anything, grabs his beer. 

It’s the busiest street in Cartagena at this time of night, all of the tables spilling out of the open front bars claimed, the air hot and fragrant, food and drink flowing easily. Their contact had deliberately picked a busy villa in the city center, and though they’re not exactly inconspicuous, there’s enough activity in the early hours of night for them to blend into the crush of energy surrounding them. There’s an air of nervous tension, narco activity’s been bad in the area, but despite it all, the streets are packed, thriving. Everyone enjoying themselves, wanting to forget their troubles for a little while.

“Besides,” Kaz continues, picking up his beer as he scans the crowd, “as soon as the contract was signed, I made a few calls. We already have a team out scouting routes, someone on getting us the satellite info from the surrounding area, a guy who knows a guy with some details on the interiors. We’ll have a safe way in and out sooner than you’d think.” 

His eyes are still wandering around the sharp figure his boss cuts, dark hair and deep eyes, beautiful women out with their boyfriends, clustered around in groups, draped over bannisters cooing into the ears of unsuspecting men. They’ve been out in the middle of nowhere long enough that Kaz can’t help himself, wipes a hand over his mouth as he watches a waitress saunter by, breasts high and glistening with perspiration, just begging him to look.

“You’re distracted,” says Snake, flatly, raising the bottle to his mouth. 

Kaz sighs, looks over at him. “Lots of pretty girls around…”

“Kaz, this is exactly the reason I didn’t want to waste time here.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you don’t even want to look?” He’d barely had to convince him, after all.

Snake makes a vague noise at that, looking past his head, and Kaz grins, turns on the barstool to follow his boss’ line of sight. He dramatically sighs when he realizes Snake’s eyes are drawn to the sidearm one of the young men nearby is crudely concealing under a loose suit jacket, the outline visible through the fabric. “Ah, seriously?” He turns back, brow raised. “Guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’re getting pretty predictable, Snake.”

“Predictable,” he repeats, bluntly, fishing in his breast pocket for a cigar. 

Kaz produces a lighter, one he picked up a few months back for exactly this reason, igniting it with a quick flick of the wrist. His boss leans in for him to light it without a word, Kaz cupping the flame with his hand, bringing it to him. He sets the lighter down on the table, watches the subtle enjoyment on Snake’s face, the mild upturn of his lips.

“Yeah, Boss,” he drawls, tracing a finger along the neck of his beer bottle. “Every time we’ve been out on one of our little ‘business trips’, I’ve never seen you make a move even once, and I know you’ve had the opportunity. Makes me wonder if you just really aren’t so hot with the ladies.”

He’s just goading him, really. Although Snake had only touched him _once_ , it’d left a strong, lasting impact. He hasn’t done it again, and it’s been weeks since that encounter, and Kaz won’t fucking ask for it. He won’t. He isn’t even sure if Snake wants it, but God, he _wants_ him to want it. Wants to maintain his pride enough that he won’t fucking ask.

But maybe he can afford to dig the claws in a little.

Snake’s brow quirks imperceptibly, and he lifts his beer to his mouth. When he sets it back down, it’s decidedly heavier, just enough for Kaz to feel the mood shift into something a little dangerous, and it’s like the nightlife around him hushes, his entire world sinking down to just the two of them in the crowd.

“Is that what you think?” Snake looks him dead in the eye. 

“Yeah, I do.”

Snake smirks, dips his head placatingly. “Well, then. Humor me, Kaz. How would you do it?”

It’s patronizing as all fuck. And yet, Kaz can’t help but be a little excited at the prospect of showing off a little, sharing himself. This is his _element_. This is maybe the only area he might actually have a foot up on his boss. Maybe.

Kaz plants his hands on the table, fingers gripping tight. “A true seduction is like… hell, I don’t think I’m wrong in comparing it to war, actually.”

There’s a brief flash of genuine interest on Snake’s face, and it only draws him in further.

“It’s about... deception, about leaving your target on edge. Undercutting their expectations at every move to keep them guessing.” He leans in closer, conspiratorial. “You want to disorient them enough for you to swoop in, take charge in their fragile state. Deep down they’ll know they’re being toyed with, they’ll _enjoy_ being guided along, eagerly anticipating your next move. They’ll buy into the game you’re playing at.” 

The grin on his face isn’t entirely without mirth. “It’s a real pleasure to just… let go, let someone else take you away on some kind of journey. Even if it’s only for a little while. Everyone loves an escape.”

“Hm.” 

“That’s it?” He throws back the rest of the beer, nose wrinkling as he swallows, sets the empty bottle down gingerly on the table. “My talent is wasted on you.”

“No. I guess I need a demonstration. More of a visual learner.”

Kaz’s mouth goes a little dry. “A demonstration?”

“Yeah.” His boss gestures with his chin. “Her.”

He spins around a little fast in his eagerness to look. He spots her through the crowd, a lone woman at the edge of a crowded table, near-empty glass of pale amber liquid in hand. She’s pretty, not beautiful, a little older than him, maybe. She turns away from a few men harassing her, and even from the distance Kaz can pick up on her complete aura of disinterest in the surroundings. The tension in the back of her neck. 

He turns back. “Her? She doesn’t seem like your type.” For some reason he can only picture his boss with a young, hot blonde at his side, bone-white smile, apple pie, good intentions. A real American icon.

Snake regards him dully.

“Ah.” He didn’t mean for himself. Kaz quickly recovers, screws on a smile, snaps up his lighter. “Yeah, okay. So, uh. How much time we got til the pickup?”

“About two hours. Give or take.”

He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was flat-out permission from his boss to pick up a girl to fuck. 

“I can work with that.” He’s sealed the deal in shorter amounts of time, but she might prove a bit of a challenge. Not like his typical kind of mark.

He takes a long inhale, smooths back the sides of his hair. “How do I look? Good? Yeah?” 

Snake vaguely grunts at him.

“Okay, okay. Stay here. Let the master show you how it’s done,” he teases, pinching his bottle around the neck, stepping off the stool. Snake at least looks interested in his little display, so he makes a point of striding the short distance over to his mark with the grace of a panther, and he’s like a shot of gold, bright enough that she looks, even catching his eye, before coyishly turning her gaze away.

He takes one last glance back at his boss, enshrouded in a cloud of thick cigar smoke, one eye glinting, and makes his move.

“ _¿Qué más?_ ”

“Yes? Can I help you?” she answers, her composure cooler than he would’ve given her credit for, based off his initial observations. “I’m not interested in--”

“Just looking for a little conversation, actually. You can relax.” He swings into the seat next to her, can see Snake’s broad form in the spaces through the crowd, past her head. It spurs him onward, and he leans forward, pulls a fresh pack of smokes from his pocket. 

Four things he carries on him at all times, all the tools of every successful businessman. Cigarettes, for starting the conversation, a pen, for sealing it. A gun, for ending it, if need be. Condoms, for the other type of ending.

He offers her a cigarette. She regards his face uneasily for a moment, and he puts on his best disarming smile in response, eyes light behind his shades. Cautiously, she slides one out with the tips of two fingers, unpainted, but neat. He lights it for her, lights his own, then speaks, “So you look miserable. Someone drag you out here against your will?”

“Miserable? Really.” She smiles, takes a long drag of her cigarette. “My little sister. There’s a boy here that she likes. Over there. She begged me to sneak out with her so she could see him tonight.”

He looks in the indicated direction, makes a show of it. Her sister is young, thick brown hair falling in waves, beautiful. Openly flirting with a boy still a little uncomfortable with his height, his burgeoning masculinity, surrounded by giggling girls, enchanting and naive. He takes a long, gratuitous look, feels out her reaction to his evaluation, chooses his next step wisely.

“Hey, she’s really pretty,” he says, takes in the slight creasing of her eyes, “Is she really attached to that guy?” He turns his body away from her, puts distance between them. She moves in to try to shorten the space, instinctive, unthinking. Good, he’s got his hooks in. “Think you could introduce us? Since you’re not interested.”

“‘Conversation’. _Ay Dios mío_ , that’s my baby sister!” She reaches across to give him a slap on the arm, just light enough to be playful, hard enough that he can tell he’s gotten to her. “Guys like you, you see a young, pretty thing and lose your heads.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Kaz says, worms a hand across the table to take her hand. She doesn’t move away from it, her eyes flitting to find his through the shades. His finger gently grazes the inside of her wrist, and he looks past her, where Snake’s as immobile as a statue. “She’s pretty, sure. That’s why you’re here, after all-- you have to be responsible, the one keeping watch, so guys like me don’t give her any trouble, right?”

“Sure. If I truly knew any better I would’ve knocked your chair out from under you before you had the chance to sit down. Saved myself the headache.” 

“Well if that’s the case, I guess I can leave you to your misery.” He feigns a sigh, drums the table as he starts to move away. Slowly.

Her hand snaps out to take his arm, and she tugs him back. “Wait.” Kaz looks her in the eyes, bright and glimmering with interest, returns her smile. “I can’t let a guy like you run loose with my kid sister around. I know better than that.”

He can’t help but look over to where his boss is obscured by the crowd, watching, waiting. The bright cherry of his cigar is like a beacon, like a warning signal. What he wouldn't give to feel that light shine down on him. So, he turns on his best charm, leans in closer. Opens his mouth. Goes in for the kill.

It’s easy enough from that point to steadily get closer to her, to buy her another drink, light her another cigarette chained off his own. He’s got her on his lap, his hand on her hip, and she’s warm and sweet and soft against the hard lines of his body. The party starts to really pick up around them as the evening wears on, and he decides to take his chance earlier than he would otherwise, puts his mouth to her ear, “Let’s go somewhere a little more... intimate. Where we can talk.”

He’s not incredibly surprised when she averts her eyes for a moment. Searches the sea of faces for her sister. She’s closer to that boy, cozied up to him in a corner. So young, and so beautiful. Careless. So unlike her.

It takes her only a breath to make a decision after that. Kaz leads her away from the throng of the crowd, guides her past _him_ to show off his prize.

He catches Snake’s eye as they pass, feels the validation wash over him-- he’s won this little game. If it registers at all, Snake doesn’t let it show on his face, simply lights a fresh cigar, fills the air with heady smoke that clings to every one of Kaz’s senses. It invades the creases of his brain, sticks with him even when he’s shut the door to their dingy motel room, paid up-front, in cash, when he pushes her up against the wall and slides his hands into her thick, dark hair. 

Even here in this room, the muffled sounds of life out on the street far beneath them, it feels like Snake is standing over his shoulders, watching his every move and he can’t just lose himself into it like he usually would. He can’t let go.

Still, it feels good to finally _kiss_ someone, and he knows he’s too eager to put his tongue in her mouth, to suck her lower lip in between his teeth. She matches his enthusiasm, is as good for it as he is, making these insatiable little moans into his mouth. His hand cradles her neck, slides down her collar, her chest, palm finding the curve of her breast through her clothing.

It’s like he hasn’t touched another human being in years, the way he’s so hungry to put his mouth on every part of her, and she actually holds him back, leaves him panting, trying to close in on her. “ _Bésame_... why are you stopping?” His hands slide down over her hips, over the swell of her ass, squeezing hard. 

He feels her hands on the back of his neck, fingers taking hold in the divots of his spine. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”

“The kind who wants my face buried in her ass. _Espero_.”

He could die between her thighs as he pulls her down over his face, her slippery hands clinging to the bed frame. Her ass settles over the bridge of his nose, tongue sliding wet, slick into her pussy, fingers gripping tight at the flesh of her inner thighs.

It’s the first time in months that he doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating under smoke, instead it’s her tangy flavor, the smell of her skin, her perfume. The little noises she makes when he slides forward to suck at her labia, when he fucks a finger into her, and he’s still wearing a shirt, his pants. He didn’t even bother to get all of his clothes off, needing to taste her, to touch another person.

He can’t help but wonder what his boss would sound like, what kind of noises he’d make with a mouth on his dick. Probably low, rough. Maybe no noise at all, he’s so tightly controlled all the time. What would he look like fucking into a woman? What would it feel like to kiss him-- would he even kiss back? Could you even call it a kiss with a man like that? Probably closer to being mauled by a lion.

Kaz groans underneath her, pulls her flush against his face and brings her off for the first time, mind somewhere else entirely.

They’re running out of time, and he’s too busy just touching her, just putting his greedy hands all over her. She comes alive like this, and it ignites that primal part of him, that part that loves seeing a woman in ecstasy, but his thoughts can’t help but wander to images of a broad chest, that nest of facial hair, cigar smoke and sweat. He nudges her away when she reaches for his dick, it’s not the same, focuses his attention on making her squirm instead.

When he fucks her, it’s quick and dirty, puts her facedown on the bed and curls his fingers into her dark brown hair. Her hands don’t feel right on his body, but she’s perfect on his dick.

They kiss for a little, after, at least until she seems to remember where she is, what she’s there for. She laughs, pushes him away. Kaz is reluctant to let her go, it’s so good to just hold somebody, but he sits back, starts to pull himself together. He doesn’t need anyone.

“I need to get back,” she murmurs, buttoning up her blouse. “I’ve already left Cristina alone for too long.”

She tousles her hair, walks to the window, clicks her tongue at their oversight. The blinds were drawn back the entire time, anyone could’ve seen them. Kaz looks, and he swears for a moment there’s a glint of light in the distance. Could be the reflection of a scope. Could be nothing at all. 

Pulling the curtains shut, he forces it out of his mind. Ridiculous. With his shades firmly in place, everything’s right in the world again, at least externally. He can’t quite shake the feeling like he’s done something wrong.

After a moment he realizes she’s still waiting for a response, and he starts, “She’s with that kid, right? Not all by herself. She’ll be fine.” 

“Maybe,” she says, chewing her lip. “I am not so sure.”

“Come on. Love in a dangerous time.” He opens the door for her, follows her out, feeling increasingly aware of how long he’s taken. How badly he wants to rub this in Snake’s cold, complacent face. Get some kind of reaction out of him. Wants him to _notice_. “Makes it more exciting, doesn’t it? She’s a regular Juliet.” 

“And how did Romeo and Juliet end?”

“Who cares about the ending? Everyone remembers it for the romance, the star-crossed lovers.” The stairs down to the ground level feel endless, like every step is going to send him spiraling downward into nothingness. He injects the charm into his voice, pushes the feelings down. “Don’t you want her to fall in love?”

“What use is love when it can only end in death and suffering?” she says breathlessly, as they pour back out onto the street, under the high arches overhead. She turns to face him, for the last time, smiles. “What I _want_ is for her to not wake up in the night to the sound of gunfire.”

She steps in closer, cups his face in the palms of her hands. “But I know it is not that simple. My country is troubled, and yet still... I hope for a better tomorrow. Thank you for helping me forget the world, _guapo_ , if only for a little while.”

When she turns to walk away, Kaz calls after her, choking out a laugh. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Would it matter? It wasn’t the one you were thinking of.” 

She waves at him over her shoulder, then disappears back into the sea of faces, leaving his world for her own. Kaz stands there for a moment, just watches, tries to collect his thoughts. Then, he starts off to the meeting point at a brisk pace, trying to bury the strange sense of panic threatening to bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

Snake is waiting for him, face unreadable, leaned up against the back of their ride. Their driver’s doing his best to stare straight forward, mind his own business as Kaz slows to a stop, forcing a cocky grin onto his face. “Hey, look. Right on time.”

His boss pushes off, steps closer, into his personal space and Kaz tries hard not to freeze up, keeps the smile screwed straight on. Snake stares at him, stares _through_ him, and Kaz can’t help but lock his jaw as Snake leans forward, close enough that their mouths are only inches apart. Then, he inhales, deep and audible, nostrils flaring.

Scenting him. Like a goddamn animal. He hadn’t even bothered to wash his face, the smell of her cunt must be all over him, clinging to his skin. 

He watches as Snake leans back, agonizingly casual, can’t help but tense up at that bland look on his face. He had permission to do this. This was the desired outcome. This was just what he’d been told to do. Wasn’t it?

Just like that, Snake turns away, puts his back to him. “Let’s go.”

As they pass through checkpoints, as the city fades into the distance, there’s this unease in his chest he just can’t bury. He isn’t really sure why. He can’t get Snake to even look at him, and he isn’t really sure why.

* * *

They’re far enough away from the action now, at a far enough distance from the enemy stronghold, that Kaz can try to get his breathing to slow down. Can radio in orders for their remaining guys to pull out of the area. He isn’t going to be able to completely calm himself until the hostage is out of their care, and he’s got the money in his hands. He can’t relax until his boss will actually look him in the eye again, instead of dead ahead at the road. He won’t even look at him, and it’s killing him inside.

At the very least, he’s not likely to get shot at this far out. One less problem to deal with.

The memo hasn’t quite gotten to the hostage. He comes to, glassy eyes betraying drugs, or possibly a concussion, and starts hyperventilating in the seat next to him. Kaz is only able to open his mouth to try to speak before this high, horrifying whine leaves the other man, growing louder, shakier, as he tries to make himself as small as possible.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Kaz says, in the most delicate voice he can muster. He’s not exactly good at this. Snake briefly looks over his shoulder at the commotion as Kaz puts his hands up in an attempt to calm the man, doesn’t make any sharp moves. He feels the vehicle start to brake reactively, the driver watching in the rearview mirror, waiting for a command. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

It feels like deja vu, like he’s been in this position before, once, a hundred times. Like this moment will keep repeating for the rest of his life. The man doesn’t stop making that dying noise, until he’s forcibly silenced by Snake reaching over his seat to seize the back of his head, shoving it between his knees. 

“Breathe,” murmurs Snake, his hand unmoving, like an anchor. His voice is strange and calming, almost ethereal, and Kaz can’t help but listen and soak up every word. “Tell me your name.”

There’s only the sound of ragged breathing for what feels like forever, and Kaz just can’t stop staring at his boss. He’s so different like this. He wonders what it would be like to be on the receiving end of this, can almost feel Snake’s fingers on the back of his head. 

“Luis,” he replies, after a moment, words muffled into his legs. 

“Good. You can call me Snake. We’re with an organization called MSF. Your friends sent us to rescue you.”

At that, Luis’ head raises, Snake’s hand slipping down to his shoulder, and he looks forward, like he’s starting to ground himself in reality again solely on the power of that steady voice. His touch. “S-Snake?” 

“Yeah.” Snake nods firmly, then catches his eyes. Holds his gaze. Kaz observes from the sidelines, like he’s experiencing some kind of cosmic shift second-hand. 

Luis seems disoriented, still staring back at Snake. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” Kaz murmurs. His own voice sounds far away in his ears. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Home?” Tears pool in the corners of his eyes, spill over. “I can’t go home. How am I supposed to face them again-- after… after…” His chin tucks down to his chest, and his breathing quickens again. “I was weak. I told them everything I knew just for food… water… sold out my own men. When they tortured me, I begged for mercy. I’m supposed to be a _soldier_.” His voice breaks. “A man.”

“Nobody’s going to blame you for that.” Snake’s hand grips down on Luis’ shoulder. “But you’re still alive. You can keep fighting.” 

“Why?” Luis shakes his head, curls in on himself. “Fight for what?”

“That’s something you have to figure out for yourself.” 

With that, Snake turns away, facing the road ahead. Kaz can only focus on the sound of Luis’ haggard breathing next to him, wonders if he’s feeling anything like he felt waking up in that hospital bed, trying to make sense of something so incomprehensible. Could you really call this living? One foot in the grave, the other pushing through the dirt, straight into the inferno. 

He can feel himself sinking and he just can’t stop it. He hears the bell tolling for him, and he’s just going to let it happen. Dragged straight to hell.

The predetermined hand-off point comes up beneath the tires quicker than anticipated, a vehicle already parked a few feet away, men in militia uniforms smoking cigarettes, loitering around in the murky glow of the headlights. The driver slows, the vehicle lurching to a stop beneath them. Nobody moves. Kaz holds his breath.

“This is it?” asks Luis, incredulous. “Just like that. It’s over?”

“It’s never really over.” Snake’s voice drives through him like it’s meant for him, and Kaz still holds his breath. His boss turns back to face the shaking man, gives a confident nod. 

“They’re waiting for you.”

“I can’t face them.” Luis eyes are wide and desperate, wet with unshed tears. “How am I supposed to just-- go back to how I used to be? After all that?”

“The old you doesn’t exist anymore. You have a second chance. What you choose to do with it is up to you.” He reaches over the seat again, pops the door handle. It swings open with a creak, and the men in the hazy light ahead of them start to move closer, eager to pick up their charge. “Help him out.”

It takes him a moment to react, to realize that Snake is talking to _him_. Kaz kicks open the door, rounds the rear of the car to yank Luis out of the backseat. He isn’t sure if the unease is showing on his face at all, because Luis seems a hell of a lot less certain of himself as he sets a bare foot down in the dirt. 

“One last thing,” murmurs Snake, thumbing his bandana further back off the set of his brow, eye shining in the white light. “When you get back. If it doesn’t feel like home anymore… come find us. There’s a place outside heaven for you.”

He looks at Snake like he’s given him viable proof of God, somehow, somewhere, in only a few short sentences. Then he nods, eager, this jerky thing that throws Kaz a little off balance. He realizes he’s been all caught up in his boss’ words, soaking them in like sustenance, believing in them. Gone away someplace far away. 

As he takes Luis over to the other men in the rays of the headlights, he knows more than ever this is where he belongs. He knows more than ever there’s no turning back from this. The edge of paradise.

* * *

He’s doing payroll in the late hours of night in their office when Snake enters soundlessly. Kaz lifts his head, ready to say something, but Snake still isn’t looking at him. He walks right past him, disappears into their continually shared quarters. Doesn’t say a fucking word.

With every day that passes, he’s more and more certain that Snake is angry with him, something, this deepening pit of dread in the base of his gut. Sure, he’ll still come to him about work matters, the men, grunts at him more than speaks most of the time, and there’s no banter, none of the camaraderie that Kaz has grown to expect. It sets him impossibly on edge, sends his brain spinning over every instance where he could’ve done something wrong. It has to be the woman. It has to be. 

Still, he isn’t going to apologize for only doing what he’d been told. Beyond that, he’s a grown fucking man. It’s his prerogative to fuck whoever he wants. Snake couldn’t be jealous, could he? When he thinks about it too hard, this sting of pride blossoms in his chest, quickly followed by the despair that his boss still won’t give him the time of day, hands documents signed off in that awful, illegible scribble he calls handwriting, not even looking at him.

He’s not going to break. He’s not going to show weakness. So Kaz does what he does best in these situations-- he works his fucking ass off.

He secures new jobs, he boosts morale with better food stocks, deals for new weapons with people a little less shady than their usual contacts. He does physical labor, improving the perimeter of their latest encampment, putting his own blood and sweat into it, on the ground with the men. Running drill, barking orders, still meeting Snake’s stonelike face, like he isn’t even seeing him at all.

In the nights, he barely sleeps, lays awake for hours waiting for Snake to just tell him what to do. To tell him to touch himself. Something. _Anything_. It never comes, but he can hear him moving, restless in the darkness only feet away. He could just push off the covers, could just walk over there, slip into his bed. But he doesn’t.

The worst part is that their work together continues to improve. Snake starts to take orders from him without question in the field, often chooses Kaz’s tactics, takes his opinions into consideration. This is new. He doesn’t expect or receive any praise for it, but it only pushes him harder. He needs to be stronger. Maybe he just needs to work for it.

Like a well-oiled machine they run MSF, and honestly, business is better than ever, despite the continued issues with resources, money. Despite the continued psychological disintegration of the second-in-command, who sometimes sneaks off to the empty office just to slump over the table, try desperately to push his feelings down. He doesn’t let himself cry.

It’s a few weeks into this when he finally breaks down. He can’t do this anymore, sick from over-thinking, what had he done, what could he _do_ to bring his boss around to treating him like a friend again. To being a confidante. He can’t watch Snake from the sidelines anymore, can’t see him offer a fellow soldier a friendly pat on the back without it instantly filling him with mirth. That’s supposed to be him. That’s supposed to be _him_. His skin burns with the need to feel those massive hands on him again, with the need for Snake to just fucking _look_ at him. 

But he doesn’t. 

And so Kaz waits until the rest of the base is slow and sleepy around him, until they’re fresh off a successful mission, working on a post-mortem, waits until he can’t stand it any longer. Until his boss is relaxed, alone in their office, smoking a cigar. Then, he makes his move.

He sets down a fresh cup of coffee in front of his boss, appeals to him before he starts. If his mother, her culture, taught him anything, it’s to always show up with a gift. Always be a good host. God, he just wants Snake to _notice_ him again.

“Boss,” he says, sitting down in the chair next to him. Snake still doesn’t look, just puffs silently at his cigar, looks out the window. He takes the coffee, though, without looking, and that at least leads Kaz to continue. “Can I… ah. Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t say anything. Kaz’s gut starts to churn, but he looks down, steels himself, powers through it.

“So, business is better than ever. With that design you approved, we’ve got a logo and everything. Can put it on the uniforms, get a sign made. Real official. Ha...” 

He self-consciously massages his neck, stares at the ground, tries to figure out what the hell he wants to say. He feels fucking pathetic. This is Snake, this is _Big Boss_ he’s talking to. Not some girl he fucked once he’s trying to pick up for a second go. 

Snake still doesn’t look at him. Sips his coffee, cigar hanging loose between two fingers. 

“We’ve had a few volunteers, lately… had to turn ‘em down, we don’t have space for them. Our dream is really starting to happen. Isn’t it, Snake?” 

Nothing. He might as well not exist. Like vapor. 

Kaz clenches his teeth, leans back, tries not to let it show in the shake of his hands. It feels like his world is falling out from under him. What had he done? How could he fix this? 

“Okay…” he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. “I guess you can just ignore me, then. Act like I’m not here. Whatever.”

Snake takes another sip of his coffee, then glances over at him, brief and disconnected. It’s still something. Just enough to spark the anger in his chest at being so casually dismissed. Overlooked. He was _second-in-command_. Hand chosen by the legendary Big Boss. 

Snake _liked_ him. He was supposed to _like_ him. He put his hands all over him, once, he’d talked to him like a friend, once, _what had he done to deserve this?_ He wouldn’t be ignored, forgotten, like garbage on the side of the street. Like some dirty half-breed in a country that didn’t even recognize him as an actual flesh and blood person.

“Snake, I don’t get it. I don’t understand you,” he spits, before he can stop himself, “I thought everything was going along nicely, that we were really starting to trust each other, and I’m not sure if I did something to make you angry, because…” 

Another drag on the cigar. The room clouds with the heavy stench of smoke.

“--because I don’t know what I did, but I can’t deal with you _ignoring_ me. You don’t treat me the same way, the men are going to notice sooner or later, and I--” His voice cracks, goes high, and he’s too raw to catch himself on it, “I _need_ to have your support if I’m going to run this business for you. I can’t do this by myself.”

His heart is starting to pound in his chest, as he feels himself growing more desperate, the silence stretching onward. Sweat beads on his upper lip. “Okay, Snake, you’ve made your fucking point. You’re pissed at me.”

Dead air.

Kaz slams his fist down on the table, pens bouncing in their tin cup, paper fluttering to the floor. He’s so angry he’s breathing hard, nostrils flaring, and Snake still won’t even react to him. Is this some kind of dream? Is he dreaming this? Has his entire life just been one long, endless nightmare leading to this moment?

“I’m not going to sit here and take this from you!” 

He bursts out of the chair, tears off towards the door, but stops himself just before reaching for the handle. Pauses. He doesn’t even know if Snake would actually let him leave. Might shoot him in the back of the head from this distance. He’d probably even step around his body, too, just leave it there bleeding out for someone else to deal with. 

His chin curls down towards his chest, and he reaches for his shades, slides them down and off his nose. His hand falls to his side, leaves them dangling in his fingertips. He rubs his eyes. 

“Look,” he mumbles, “I… I really hate this, you know? I just wish you’d tell me what I did.”

His hand flattens out against the door. He waits for the click of a hammer being pulled back. 

“Kazuhira.”

His shoulders actually shake at hearing his name, in that voice, from that _man_. 

“Come here.”

Swallowing wetly, he turns to face him. Steps closer, until he’s only a foot away. He can’t look up, can’t meet his eyes, now that his boss is actually looking back.

Without his shades he feels naked, takes cautious glances upward. Snake’s watching him, patient, expression unreadable, cigar between his teeth. 

The silence continues. Kaz opens his mouth, the air leaving his chest like a deflating tire. He feels absolutely wrecked. Decimated. Ripped open, his guts spilling out, blood on the floor. 

“Snake--”

“I’m not sure how you got it into your head that everything I do revolves around you.” Snake’s brows furrow, and he pulls the cigar from his lips, smoke flowing through his nostrils. “I didn’t feel like talking. Nothing to do with you.”

It’s like being hit with a warhead. He tenses, hands curling into fists at his side. “Okay…” 

“Is there a reason I should be angry with you, Kaz?”

He stares at the ground. “No, Boss.”

“Then stop acting like you’ve got something to be sorry for.”

He’s all but forced to meet his eye as Snake pushes out of his chair, Kaz stepping backward, Snake rising to his full height. He’s in Kaz’s personal space so quickly, crowding all the air out of the room with the breadth of his shoulders, his arms. He tosses the end of the cigar into the dregs of the coffee cup, then reaches for Kaz’s face, his fingers stinking of burnt tar. 

He feels Snake’s hand curve around his jaw, his thumb grazing the dimple in his chin. He can feel himself shaking a little, wills his muscles to stop, and his idiotic mouth gets away with itself before he can reign it back. 

“Please don’t do that to me again.” 

The instant the words are out in the open he regrets it. God, the way he’d sounded-- so desperate, so _needy_. The look Snake gives him makes a sick feeling start to burn up in his gut, acidic, and he’s about to cover it up with some joke, when the fingers at his neck start to slide gently back and forth, over his pulse. It’s oddly soothing.

“Can’t stand the quiet, huh? Probably why you love the sound of your own voice so much.”

This horrible smile threatens the corner of his mouth, and Kaz lets himself succumb. He shrugs, his boss’ hand dropping down to the juncture of his shoulder. “You know me. Don’t know when to shut my damn mouth.” He most definitely doesn’t bite the words out, mortified at his earlier admission. He’d said _please_.

“Or when to open it, either. Kaz, all you had to do was say something.” Snake’s hand slips down to his chest, rubs over his pec with a flat palm, a gesture that should be soothing. All he can think is that Snake is looking for the sweet spot to crack his sternum, the hollow in his ribs, the best way to reach inside his ribcage and rip his heart out from underneath. “You just have to ask.”

Out of his mouth, it sounds so simple. Just asking for it. Kaz scoffs to himself, tries not to focus too hard on where his boss’ hand is still idly rubbing his chest, where his nipples have hardened under the fabric at the simulation. He’s too oversensitive, reactive to his touch. He can’t deny how good it feels.

Snake’s hand slides all the way down his arm, gently pulling his shades out of the loose grip of his fingers. He looks straight at him while sliding them back onto Kaz’s face, until they’re safely placed on the bridge of his nose. It feels safer, somehow, with that barrier between them. Where his eyes can’t be too honest.

“I think you’ve been working too hard, Kaz. Too much time in your own head. You need to burn off some of that energy.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

Turns out that it’s face-down, a mouthful of sand, hair dripping with ocean water from the low surf, already wrecked after an hour of sparring. Kaz staggers to his forearms and throws his weight to the side, misses Snake coming down on him and kicks him back, enough time to scramble to his feet and drag himself away. 

It’s easy, this, natural between them, the give and take of a good fight, of outsmarting an opponent, of countering their every move. It kills him to admit it but Snake was right, this is exactly what he _needed_ , this raw energy of violence between them. The frenzied dance of two well-matched opponents, the rush of battle. The futility of it. He was exhausted when they’d started, and he’s running on fumes now. Snake’s still fresh, still at full speed; like it’s the fight of his life.

He squares his hips, turns to face Snake, stance low. His boss approaches with that even, concentrated look, and he mirrors him, and for a moment it’s like looking into his own reflection, like two sides of the same coin. Like some sort of disturbed conversation in shattered bones and broken blood vessels.

Kaz strikes first, wants it too bad, too impatient. Snake’s hand snaps out to grip his wrist, twisting his elbow in, and he’s thrown to his shoulders, rolling over himself to land flat on his belly with a grunt. 

Snake stalks over to finish his prey, and Kaz lashes out, catches him off guard, staggering him, getting enough of a grip that he crashes to the sand. He throws himself over Snake, tries to pin him, and they struggle together for a moment before Snake twists, has Kaz pinned again.

Thrashing under him, straining, arms and legs trapped, Kaz tries to get that weight off, he’s not going to lose, not going to lose again. He’s biting and spitting, sweating, doesn’t hold back as Snake leans down, forehead to forehead, their noses a breath apart.

“Feel better?”

“Arm kinda hurts,” he snipes back, and Snake grins, bears down harder.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already.”

“Not on your life.” 

At that, Kaz launches himself forward, Snake swerving his head out of the way, anticipating that headbutt trick. Kaz manages to gain the upper hand, tossing them into the shallow water. The waves crush up against them, warm and salty on bare skin, Snake’s bandana spiraling out from the back of his head in long, twisting patterns, black as seaweed. 

He manages to jam his forearm up along the base of Snake’s throat, even if Snake’s hands thread around the wrist, could break it if he dared. They’re at an impasse, but it feels good to be on top. Kaz can feel every angle of the body underneath him, the bare skin of his chest against his own. It feels real, the physicality of it all, just hot skin and muscle and sweat. God, it makes him feel like a man, powerful, his boss laid out under him.

“So it looks like,” Kaz says, between each laboured breath, “I win. You’re losing your touch, old man.”

Impossibly fast, his hold is broken, hands pulled tight to his sides, an iron grip around him. Snake plants his boots flat in the sand, and he can’t move like this, he’s never going to _beat_ him, is he? 

“Maybe I’ve got you right where I want you,” comes that rough voice, and Kaz actually groans as Snake rolls his hips, as he feels a hard dick pressing insistently against his ass. In that tight embrace, Snake grinds him down against his body, makes him really feel it. 

It’s the first sign of actual, genuine interest from his boss, and any control he thought he had over the situation quickly crumbles, as he tries to move, tries to do anything, his body screaming for more friction. Snake keeps him still as death.

He’s starting to get flustered, hectic, hard in his pants and he bites out a, “Snake--”, before he’s kneed in the gut, knocked onto his back, Snake on top of him _again_. He barks out a laugh because this is all he wanted, he missed this, he’ll take all the bruises if it means just having those hands on him. He just wants to impress. He just wants his attention. All that charisma, all that power, all focused on him.

Kaz’s nerves are singing with the skin on skin contact, and when he finally ends up downed, for good, he’s panting, slick with sweat as thunder reverberates in the near distance. He lets his eyes flutter shut as the first few drops of rain hit his face, realizes his shades are long-gone, waits for the torrid, waits for his boss to punch him in the face. 

Nothing comes.

He teases one eye open, then the other, finds Snake just looking down at him, fascinated, like he’s something new and unknown. He’s never seen that look on his face before. It scares him, somehow, more than anything else.

“Don’t tell me you’re calling it, Boss,” Kaz says, with as much false bravado as he can manage. His body is aching all over, he’s trapped, it hurts to breathe. “It’s… ah, it’s not over yet.”

Snake shakes his head, hair sticking to his skin as the rain starts to penetrate. “I meant what I said earlier, Kaz. All you have to do is ask.”

“And give you the satisfaction?” 

It comes out more biting than he intends, but those long weeks of solitude, of dissecting every move he’d made, well. He can’t help the hurt flowing out of him. He could never help it, always leaves his wounds gaping, leaves bloody handprints on everyone he touches.

“It’s okay.” 

Snake is closer now, leaning down, the rain starting in sheets above them. They’re instantly soaked, and the world hollows to the heat of their bodies, every place Snake is touching him, every place he isn’t. 

What wouldn’t he do for a kiss? What would he sacrifice for one? Just one, little kiss. His pride could probably stand it.

Probably.

He laughs, but there’s no humor, and it breaks off into more of a wheeze. Kaz goes limp, utterly defeated. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“It’s what you’re doing to _yourself_.” His fingers grip tight around Kaz’s wrists, and he pushes down, comes closer, until Kaz can feel his breath fanning hot and stale over his face. “Ask me for it.”

“No.”

“Kaz--”

“ _No._ ”

Nothing. Silence. There’s a brief flash of anger on Snake’s face, and he starts to move away.

“Kiss me,” Kaz spits, can’t keep it in, can’t let him leave, can’t pretend he doesn’t need it with every bone in his body anymore. He can’t even look at him, screws his eyes shut. “ _Kiss me_.”

His boss chuckles, and he knows in that instant he’ll never regain any ground with him. He’s lost in the worst kind of way. He’s not honestly sure if he cares anymore.

And yet, when it finally happens, it’s nothing like Kaz expects. Like nothing in his wildest dreams. He feels Snake lean in, unbearably close, feels the press of his mouth gently against his. His beard tickles, a bit. 

It’s… sweet.

He blinks, as Snake sits back on his haunches, the bulk of his thighs still holding Kaz down. His hands are freed, at least, with this shift in the atmosphere around them, saturated in the rain, nothing else matters. Kaz reaches for his boss’ bare arms, feeling the muscle flex under his hands, but they’re quickly slapped away, restrained again.

“That’s it?” he murmurs, flat on his back. Wrecked.

“You were expecting something else?”

“Yeah. Actually.” He licks his lips. “Can… can I have another?”

“What do you say?” 

Like he’s a child. Like he needs someone to teach him his manners. He doesn’t care anymore. His pride isn’t worth it. 

“Please.”

When Snake cautiously takes his mouth again, he moans, uninhibited, flicks his tongue out to graze the edge of his lower lip. This earns him a curious noise, Snake’s mouth parting to let his tongue in, and his hands are free all of a sudden, free to slide into Snake’s thick, shaggy hair, pull him closer. Their teeth click, and it’s messy, Snake eating into his mouth with the eagerness of a wolf, a beast, and he’s addicted to it, to the burn of his beard against his skin, the taste of smoke and death on his tongue, he’ll die here on this memory, on the beachside, rotting out into a husk, weathered by the salt and sand.

It’s starting to hurt, and he can barely breathe, but he doesn’t want it to stop. His knee slides up the flat of Snake’s outer thigh, curling around him, trying to touch every inch he can get away with, get him closer. As he tries to control the kiss, Snake plunders his mouth, he feels a tongue slide against his teeth, his jaw aching as his mouth widens unnaturally, taking him deeper. Like being eaten alive.

His hands get caught up on that bandana, fingers moving behind his head to start to undo it, wanting it off, and he flinches as he’s abruptly thrown back, a flat palm cracking over his cheek, sudden, unexpected. His vision whites out for a moment, head rocking in the sand. He’s panting from the sheer intensity of the moment, and fuck, he wants more. He wants to see how far down he can go.

“Boss. That was--” He doesn’t sound like himself, still too honest. The entire side of his face is stinging. He clears his throat, lets his hands fall alongside his body. “Do you wanna go back to our room?”

“Do you?”

“Fuck yes.”

There’s sand all over his back as Snake hauls him to his feet, he’s soaking wet, but he can’t care about appearances, anything beyond his boss’s wide palm on his ass. His middle finger dips into the crease, presses hard against the hottest part of him. God, he can’t wait for it, turns to say something, meets a stony look that cuts off every train of thought. “Ah… Boss?”

“Go on ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

He wants to protest, but ultimately shuts his mouth. He doesn’t want this to stop. “Okay. But what--”

“Go.”

It feels like he’s getting played with again, but he walks off without another word. He passes a few of the men on watch, waves casually like he’s not about to debase himself in the worst way possible, like he hasn’t been thinking of this moment for months, now. 

The room feels empty, cheap, somehow, in the burnt orange light from the lamp. He isn’t sure what to do, strips down to his briefs, puts a shirt on, takes it off again. Lays on his stomach, on his cot, moves to Snake’s, on his back. Ultimately, moves away, because he isn’t really sure if his boss would want him there. It doesn’t stop him from taking a deep inhale of his sheets, first, before he nervously returns to his own bed.

On his back, then. Legs spread, show off his dick. Maybe on his knees, bent over-- no, he doesn’t want to seem too eager for it. God, he’s eager for it. He’s halfway through turning around when the door opens, and he jolts upright.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

Snake doesn’t say anything, starts undoing the bandana at the back of his head. He folds it, places it reverently on the table, then simply steps forward, Kaz sliding off the cot, until both feet land on the floor. He starts undoing his pants and Kaz’s mouth goes dry, parched as he follows the nimble movements of Snake’s fingers.

He strips down to nothing but underwear, boots off, and Kaz can’t draw his eyes away from the considerable shape of his package, the dark hair on his thighs. He’s thrown off-balance by a palm at his chest, forcibly steered in the direction of Snake’s bed. 

Kaz sets down, leans back onto his hands, and then Snake is covering him with his body and oh, his pride can take this. He’ll take anything he can get. “Boss…”

Snake settles between his spread legs, rests his full weight down this time, the toned muscle of his abdomen hot and hard over the swell of Kaz’s dick. He finds his mouth again and Kaz moans into it, just lets his boss take and take and take, lets him kiss him sloppy and wet, just fuck his tongue right in there and taste him where it matters. Snake pulls away, puts his mouth all over his chin, his cheek, rubs his nose and mouth over his face, breathing him in, like some kind of animal, scenting him.

He just lays there as his boss pushes his mouth against his throat, and he shies away from the the threatening graze of teeth against his pulse. Snake moves lower, pushing Kaz’s arms over his head to shove his mouth and nose into the hollow under his arm, breathing deep and long into the thatch of hair there. It’s fucking embarrassing, he’s still tacky with sweat from their fight, but it makes his dick twitch, whole body tingling as his tongue swipes out to taste him there.

Kaz actually laughs, his hands jumping reflexively to the back of his boss’s head. He catches himself this time before Snake has to, lowers them back down, even if he has to bite his lip the entire time, ticklish. His boss rewards him by nuzzling his face in, inhales deeply once more, then moves to his chest, just rubbing his face there, the roughness of his beard leaving prickling sensations all over his skin.

It’s so different from any encounter he'd had before. Like every part of him is permanently tainted, changed from this. Snake massages his pec with a rough palm, tongue flat against the opposite nipple, and his cock is just so hard, and so terribly neglected. 

“Fuck, that feels good.” His hands curl into the sheets, and he pushes his hips up, into the satisfying press of Snake’s thigh. “Do you want me to-- unh--”

“Focus, Kaz.” 

He punctuates this with a bite, hard enough that Kaz tenses his abs, curls in a little, holds his breath. When his teeth pull away, there’s an impression, the beginnings of moon-shaped bruise on his chest. Kaz’s cock twitches in the confines of his underwear, precum leaving a dark stain on the fabric. This little pleased noise leaves him, the pain is good, and his boss chuckles, and it’s just so weirdly satisfying to hear him laugh. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kaz groans, “Come on. More.”

There’s a steady trail of darkening bite marks down the ripples of his abdomen, over his hipbones, Snake’s fingers edging along the waistband of his briefs. Burying his nose against the swell of his cock, Snake mouths the tip through the fabric, and Kaz sits up to his elbows, has to watch this. He finds himself laid flat again just as quickly, Snake’s fingers looping into the elastic to rip them down and over his thighs. 

When they’re off, Snake balls them up in his fist, brings them to his nose. There’s this utter sense of mortification, but his eyes wander down, sees his boss rock hard, and it’s so worth it. So worth it for that. Kaz loops his thighs around Snake’s hips, the briefs quickly tossed to the ground as Snake covers him again, kissing him, and fuck, he just wants to touch.

He can taste his own sweat on his tongue, something wilder than that, can’t stop kissing him, like it’s an addiction. Like being poisoned. His boss pulls back, puts a big palm over his face to shove him away, slinks lower down his body. His thighs are quickly pulled up into the juncture of Snake’s elbow, until he’s raised off the bed onto the tips of his shoulders, his lower body cradled in Snake’s lap, knees falling close to his chest. It’s a vulnerable position, ass high, and he isn’t sure what’s going to happen now, God, he wants his dick sucked, but he’ll take whatever he can get. Whatever he can get.

“I like this side of you,” Snake murmurs, teeth grazing the underside of his thigh, moving inward. His tongue flicks out, slides wet against one of his balls, Kaz arcing into the touch. “You can’t hide from me like this.”

That tongue teases down his perineum, the edge of his asshole, and he clenches reflexively. “What… you can’t-- oh, oh God--” His voice cracks as the tip of his tongue circles the rim, presses flat against it. His entire body feels like it’s about to disintegrate, hips jumping in Snake’s hands, the flat of a palm sliding to push his knee wider, opening him, leaving him exposed.

Kaz practically holds his breath as Snake spears his tongue into him, spreads him, pushes in further. His head curls back into the bedding, and this low noise leaves him, legs shaking in Snake’s hold. That tongue fucks in and out of his hole, before Snake closes his mouth down, sucks hard, working his tongue in, Kaz’s feet flexing in the air.

He could probably come from just this, and it’s embarrassing how sensitive he is, Snake’s beard rough against the sensitive flesh of his ass, his inner thighs, but the contented noises he’s making while eating him out like that, he could get off on those alone. Like Snake’s getting something out of this, himself. 

Snake pulls away, digs his teeth into the undersides of Kaz’s thighs, making him gasp at the sharp burst of pain, the rush of endorphins. Just as quickly, he shoves his whole face right back into his ass, slides his hand further up his thigh, spreads him open. He sucks a finger into his mouth, uses it to circle his hole, sliding inside easily where he’s been loosened with spit and tongue.

It’s not quite enough, doesn’t feel full enough, and Kaz can’t help but wonder what it’d be like if Snake fucked him. Arousal punches through him, he hadn’t even thought about it, about what it might be like to have him inside. Suddenly, it’s all he can focus on, as Snake pushes another finger into him, uses his tongue to wet the rim of his asshole, tease him as the fingers work their way in, stretching him.

“Don’t even think about coming yet.” The words are muffled into his skin, Snake nuzzling his face against his balls, breathing deeply. Those fingers pull out, and Kaz whines, sliding down onto his back as Snake shifts away.

“No-- hey, Snake, why’d you stop?”

“I’m not gonna do all the work. Finger yourself. Show me how much you want it.”

Kaz's hands slide down his chest, his stomach, curl into the golden hair above his cock. Snake gives him a look that makes him hurry up a little, pull his legs up. One hand moves his cock and balls out of the way, eyes flicking up to make sure it’s okay, the other teasing the loosened rim of his ass. God, he’s gaping a little, so wet already that a finger sinks in so easily, he quickly puts another in.

He’s never even done this to himself before, hasn’t ever wanted it, but Snake’s fixated on where his fingers are buried in his body and he’s so fucking hot inside. It feels good, not the same as his boss playing with him there, and Kaz bites his lip, pushes them deeper until he’s in to the knuckle, hips rolling into his hand.

This has always been easy for him, this need to perform, and with Snake’s attention on him it’s natural. Just being under his gaze, being able to watch as one of Snake’s hands skims over his own abdomen to grab his dick through his shorts, massage it. Kaz wants to reach out and touch, but his hand is too busy fucking himself, the other reaching for his cock. It’s so satisfying to just wrap his hand around the head, touch his dick a little bit.

“Boss, you must really like to watch,” Kaz murmurs, head dropping back into the sheets. He shifts his legs up, gingerly plants the flat of his feet on Snake’s knees, works his fingers in a little deeper. “This is what gets you off. Telling me what to do.”

“You never shut your mouth, do you?”

“Make me,” he shoots back, petulant, smirking, the sheer ridiculous of the statement not unknown to him. He’s got his fingers in his goddamn ass, already, what else could his boss really do to--

He’s slapped, hard, vision spiking, and he actually chokes, cock pulsing in his hands because he could definitely come right now. Snake shoves both of his hands away before he can get there himself, takes over, first two fingers sinking back inside his body.

This goes on for awhile, longer than he can stand, his boss steadily fucking into his ass, bringing him to the edge just to stop, spend a little more time biting his inner thighs. Kaz holds his breath every time he bites down, sometimes can’t help but call out, and it hurts in the most satisfying way, knowing he’s going to have marks all over him. 

He’s sweating and shaking, Snake just won’t take mercy on him, won’t touch his dick, won’t do anything other than slowly rock his fingers in and out. Kaz breaks a little, can’t stay on edge for too much longer, feels something dangerously close to tears prickle at the backs of his eyes.

“Boss, would you just-- I can’t… fuck...”

Snake’s face looms down over him, eye dark, and he can’t look away.

“Beg.”

This slimy feeling of cold revulsion pools in his stomach, but he’s been kept at the precipice for too long, his head feels hazy and he just wants to come so badly. That teasing doesn’t stop, Snake pressing his fingers in just shallow enough that it isn’t enough, thumb grazing the rim of his stretched hole, legs shaking, nerves on fire. He wants his mouth back there, he wants him to just _touch him_ , fuck him, _something_ and he’s so oversensitive and he just can’t take it anymore.

“I fucking hate you,” is what leaves his mouth, instead, and he groans, tries to push his hips further onto Snake’s hands. “Don’t make me--”

Those fingers drive into him sharp and fast, unexpected, and he gasps, hands curling into the blanket for dear life, and he’s just so close, he could come from this he could just get there and then it stops, just like that, Snake drawing them out of his body, fingertips pressing against the rim.

“I hate you,” he pants, “I hate you so much.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Boss, I can’t--”

“ _Beg_.” 

“Just-- fucking _kill me_ already.”

He strikes him across the face again, hard enough he tastes blood, and what little resolve Kaz was desperately hanging onto crumbles entirely.

“Fuck. _Fuck!_ Oh God, oh fuck, okay, okay, Jesus, Snake _please_ , please make me come. Please, I need it, I need you, just--”

He can’t even speak as Snake finally leans back down, broad tongue sliding up the length of his dick, base to tip, before his mouth wraps around the head of his cock, sucks hard. His fingers push in to the knuckle, curl up, find that sweet spot inside of him that just makes his entire body seize up, makes him clench down. He comes so hard and so fast that it should be embarrassing, the high keening noise he makes should be _embarrassing_ , but he can’t help himself, hands shooting down to clutch at Snake’s thick hair, hold him close as he empties himself into that sucking, hungry mouth.

Kaz is still shivering all over, limp, eyes wet as Snake crawls back up his body, clutching him roughly by the face. His thumb, sticky with spit, something else, pries his jaw open, his lips parting with a wet sound. Snake leans over him and spits his load back into his mouth, clamping it shut with a sweaty palm, covering his nose, forcing him to swallow. Kaz’s hands slap at him, and his boss laughs, leans down to kiss him again, sharing the bitter taste of his own release.

Snake’s chest settles on his own, and somehow this is what he likes the most, this threatening closeness, just being kissed by him. If you could even call it that. Maybe just being devoured. He’s light-headed, letting this strange taste of normalcy happen, until it’s less like kissing and more just being examined, like Snake is ensuring he’s still in good condition. Just a bruised ego, a slight chip on the shoulder.

Still, he can feel the insistent press of a hard cock against his own, wonders if Snake will finally allow him to touch. When his hand starts to slide down the back of Snake’s neck, start to shift down the side of his body, it’s knocked back. He just lets it drop, sighs. “So... that’s it then? You don’t want--”

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

“Uh… okay.” A long, uncomfortable pause. He tries to play it off, laughs weakly. “Boss, you really play hard to get, you know?” 

He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. It doesn’t work very well, apparently, because Snake gets this smug expression that absolutely withers him.

“Kaz. Something you were meaning to ask?”

He bites his lip, eyes darting away. It’s uncomfortable being scrutinized this closely, unable to make any real meaningful escape. Snake bears down on him, demands his attention, and it’s impossible to keep this little secret to himself anymore. 

“Yeah. Um. Could you maybe, uh. Kiss me... a little more?”

His mouth feels so natural against his own. His boss at least allows him to touch his neck, his hair, fingers sliding to cup his skull and steer him into something closer to his idea of a kiss. It’s incredible how quickly he adapts, lets Kaz lead just long enough before taking over, crushing the breath out of him with his body, kissing him senseless.

It doesn’t feel like long enough. He could probably stay in this low light forever, until his lips are raw, subsisting on nothing else other than the wild taste of this horrible man on top of him. He almost sighs when Snake eases away, gives his lower lip one last stinging bite, raises off of him. 

His entire body feels like it’s had the bones forcibly removed, yanked screaming out through the back of his head. Seated upright, he sets his feet on the floor, feels his boss’ broad palm slide up his spine, settle at his neck. He leans into him, lets his weight rest against Snake, enjoying the fingers teasing at the hair at his nape. He’ll allow himself this. His boss doesn’t seem to mind, at least. 

Kaz feels a thumb stroke along his pulse. “Are you ever gonna let me return the favor, Boss?”

“If you earn it.”

Snake shoves him forward, though not hard. He stumbles, naked, to the narrow, lonely prison of his own bed.

* * *

“...Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Wish I was,” says Snake, shrugging, cigar in hand. They’re a few drinks in, his boss down to one of his overly tight white shirts, sweat darkening the neck and underarms. Kaz’s mouth waters, and he takes another drink, plays along. 

“So you’re seriously telling me that you _died_ … and fought through the ghosts of all the men you’d defeated in battle in some kind of spirit realm,” Kaz says, very slowly, “And somehow came back to life?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

Kaz sets his glass down, leans back, rubbing his neck. “I swear to Christ, Snake, if you’re just yanking my chain here...”

It’d taken a bit of needling to get his boss on the topic of some of his better fights, a healthy dose of liquor, a little more digging to get him talking about the infamous Operation Snake Eater. It was no mystery as to why he didn’t bring it up. Kaz had, like any other soldier worth his snuff, heard about the mission, all the rumors floating around, the defection of the legendary Boss, herself. But hearing it out of Snake’s mouth was a whole different paradigm. The man who’d lived through it, come out the other end, and completely abandoned his identity, his country, _everything_. What he wouldn’t give to find out why.

God, if he wasn’t fascinating. 

Snake had been gradually revealing little pieces of himself, ever since Kaz had finally softened his grip, accepted submission. Though it’s still terrifying to let his boss hold that much power over him, he can’t quite regret it, can’t quite tear himself away from this continuing shift between them. He asks, and Snake provides. They work together like a dangerous machine, tear up every part of ground beneath them, and for every piece of himself Kaz gives up, Snake returns the favor by loosening his collar, ever so slightly. He’s never quite felt so free, testing the limits of his leash.

“Would I lie to you, Kaz?”

Hell if that isn’t a loaded question. Kaz grins, nods his head. He shouldn’t even be listening to this. It sounds completely insane, a near-death jaunt through a ‘spirit realm’, and from anyone else’s mouth he would’ve discarded it entirely. But it’s Snake, a god-awful liar, and the most incredible soldier in possibly the entire world. Did he even have reason to lie?

And his eye is just so light, so eager. It’s addictive to have him open like this, to gain access to these secret places in his boss that maybe nobody else has ever seen. Kaz feels his doubt start to wash away, despite himself, feels his natural skepticism start to cave and make way for something else entirely.

“Okay, okay. It’s probably true that you’re the only one crazy enough to keep fighting. Even in death.” He still isn’t entirely sure, but hell if he doesn’t _want_ to believe him. Kaz picks up his glass, extends it to Snake. “I’m glad you made it back around to the other side, Boss.”

Their glasses clink together and they both polish off their drinks, Kaz peering over to watch Snake’s throat work as he downs the alcohol. As he slides his glass down on the table, the telephone on the nearby comms table starts trilling, the call they've been waiting for. Kaz shoots out of his seat to answer, his boss sliding the cigar between his lips, watching him work.

He nudges his hip up against the desk as he answers in Spanish, cradling the phone to his neck. Another potential client. He hasn’t had to hunt for jobs in weeks-- they’re coming to _him_ , now, and it gives him this little boost as he jots down information, contacts, answering questions in his best non-committal business voice, all charm and evasion. He’s a seasoned pro at this now, shaped by his boss’ rough, punishing hands, and he can’t deny how good it feels to have Snake staring at him as he bends over the desk, pen working a mile a minute as he takes down information.

When he stands and hangs up the phone, he can’t help but crow a little, excited as he stretches to his full height, chest out. He swaggers back to the desk, clipboard in hand, then throws it down before his boss, leans in close next to him. “Now I know what you’re going to say. Burning down drug labs, not exactly glamorous, but--”

“I don’t really want to talk business right now, Kaz.”

He stops dead in his tracks, chokes out a laugh as Snake grinds down his cigar in the ashtray. He stands back as Snake turns in his seat, thighs spreading as he reclines in the chair.

“Okay… so then what do you want to talk about?” He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, all of a sudden, reaches gingerly for the table, missing it on the first try. His fingers touch down uneasily on the wood, but it’s grounding, stops him from fidgeting too much under that weighty stare.

He suddenly feels like maybe he’s done something wrong. Work is something that’s always come easy between them, and maybe he’d dug a little too much earlier asking about 64’, maybe he’d angered Snake somehow, or irritated him, something. He’d always had work to fall back on in that case, and there’s this sudden intense feeling like he has to prove himself again.

Snake’s flat expression reveals nothing, as he murmurs, “Don’t really want to talk at all.”

Kaz’s heart drops, and he’s suddenly terrified that it’s going to happen again, that Snake’s going to lock him out, ignore him again. He’d said too much. He’d asked for too much, the fucking idiot he was, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, to apologize, not even knowing why when Snake just smiles, smooths a hand over his beard. Looks him up and down.

“Take off your shirt.”

He pauses, for a moment, brows creasing in confusion. Then, he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, trying to hide the shake in his hands, drags it up and over his head. Drops it to the floor. His neck and chest is still peppered with bruises, some healing and yellow from weeks ago, others black and blue, fresh with teeth impressions, remnants of the night before. Snake reaches out to touch one of the bite marks on his pec, presses inward, Kaz biting his lip a little to hide the noise he wants to make.

“Put your hands behind your back. Keep them there.”

Gingerly, Kaz pushes his shoulders back, hands reaching behind to hold either of his elbows. Snake takes the moment to wrestle out of his own shirt, throws it far off, muscles bulging as he settles back. Kaz shifts from foot to foot, uneasy. Anticipating. 

Then, Snake looks up at him, brow quirked in amusement. Extends his hand, points down to the space between his spread legs.

Kaz drops down to his knees so fast and so hard that he feels the impact all the way up his spine. His face heats, and he’s embarrassed, but it doesn’t stop him from clambering forward without the aid of his hands, until he’s close enough to feel the heat rolling off from Snake’s body, can smell him this close. 

“Boss…” he mutters, mouth wet. It’s like torture to have to keep his hands back like this, he wants to reach out and touch, wants to get his dick out of his pants. Wants to taste him. Anything. He recognizes how little control he has over this, but for some reason it makes him hotter, his cock aching in the confines of his pants. 

Snake reaches down, tugs his shades off his face with a gentle grip, setting them on the table. He winces a little as his vision adjusts, looks up at his boss, knows he’s showing too much on his face. He just wants it so badly he can taste it, can’t help but channel that need into his eyes. He’s rewarded as Snake’s hand settles down on the top off his head, thumb grazing the errant hairs at his temple. His eyes close in reverence.

He hears the shift of fabric, the sound of a zipper lowering. He moans a little, despite himself, eyes fluttering open.

Snake lifts his hips to get his pants down, reaches into his underwear for his dick, and Kaz actually gasps, tries to lean in, the hand at his head preventing him from moving as far as he’d like. His own fingers dig into the skin of his elbows, and he wants so badly to reach out and touch. 

Snake’s cock is half-hard, cut, gorgeous in the tight grip of his fist as he jacks himself, inches from Kaz’s face. He smells strong and masculine this close, the length and girth of him already a little intimidating, but fuck, Kaz wants it in his mouth. He actually flicks his tongue out to graze the tip, Snake holding him back, and he whines, tries to push forward.

“Come on,” he urges, unable to keep that petulant tone out of his voice. “Don’t tease me. Not now.”

He’d _earned_ this, after all. He was _owed_ this for giving so much of himself up. And when Snake takes his cock in hand, pulls Kaz in close, the glans pressing against his lower lip, he opens his mouth eagerly, lets his tongue out to finally taste. It’s like heaven.

His boss pushes the head into his mouth, and he wraps his lips around the crown, tonguing the slit as he sucks down. His eyes glance up to Snake’s face, and there’s nothing more than his usual even look, and God, he wants to see him breathless, wants to see him lose himself into this. Wants to make him lose control.

He tries to bob his head, but that vice grip on his hair is too tight for him to move, Snake just steadily dragging him back and forth over the tip, his hand covering most of the length of his cock. He makes no sound, and Kaz sucks in, cheeks hollowing, eyes closing as he concentrates. He wants to hear him. 

His legs are beginning to shake from his position on the hard floor, but he can’t focus on that. Nothing exists beyond the feeling of his boss growing fully hard against his tongue, how stretched his mouth feels around his thick cock, how _powerful_ he feels on his knees like this.

Just when he’s starting to find a rhythm, Snake tugs him back, drags him off his cock. Kaz scoffs, licks his lips, looks up. “Boss--”

“Thought you might need a minute before we really get started.”

“What?”

When Snake rises out of the chair he levers back on his heels, the tight hold on his hair never ceasing. Snake drags him back onto his dick without another word, and this time he gets more than the head, Snake forcing him down the full length, in tight to his pelvis, nose in his pubic hair. He chokes a little as his throat adjusts, before his boss switches his grip, starts relentlessly fucking into his mouth with no further warning.

There’s nowhere for him to move, held firmly in place by those rough hands, so he just tries to cover his teeth, leave his mouth open for his boss to fuck into, focusing on the sound of his ragged breathing from above. Tries not to choke too much, throat spasming harshly around the intrusion. Snake makes almost no noise, nothing to tell he’s enjoying it, but Kaz revels in the occasional stutter of his hips, the feeling of Snake’s hands curling tight at the hair at the back of his head.

He’s crushed into his pelvis, can’t breathe, held there tightly and he wants desperately to move his hands. His nails dig into the tender skin inside his elbows, and he gags around his cock, once, twice, suddenly grateful all he’s had in the past few hours is booze, starts to feel it come up, burning his throat. Snake drags him back after an endless moment, spit and bile dribbling down his chin, and he can’t help but smile, eyes closed, before his boss puts his cock back in his swollen mouth, pinches his nose shut, starts fucking inward, hitting the back of his throat.

He can’t fucking breathe, he can’t breathe, and his head starts to go fuzzy as he chokes again, gags, whole body tensing. Snake wrenches him back, rough, and he chokes out more bile, spits up on the floor. He’s starting to feel dizzy, his jaw held in Snake’s claw-like grip, head forced upward. 

“Look at you. You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Boss,” he breathes, sounding wrecked, sounding something else.

“Open your mouth.”

He does, willingly. Snake makes this sucking noise, leans over, spits right into his mouth. He swallows, takes it into himself, moans. He wants to laugh at how easily he’ll debase himself, how _wanted_ this makes him feel, before he’s forcibly silenced by a dick in his mouth, thrusting resumed in a punishing rhythm. Snake’s fingers pinch his nostrils shut, and all he can do is take it, face contorted in concentration as he gags around his cock, fluid leaking out around the length of it.

Kaz’s vision starts to white out a little, and just as he feels himself about to fade, Snake pulls out, lets him catch his breath. There’s spittal and something else down his chin and chest, his eyes and nose running, but it’s the hottest thing he’s ever experienced, Snake giving him this. He parts his lips, lets out his tongue, asks for more, and Snake provides, gives him his cock. It’s all he’s ever dreamed of, to feel this _wanted_ by him.

His throat’s going raw, jaw sore, but Kaz desperately wants to see it through to the end as his nose is buried in Snake’s pubic hair, gagging hideously around his cock. He hears Snake actually grunt, and arousal shoots through him at the noise, leaves him tingling, before he’s jerked back, slapped hard across the face, ears ringing. He’d fall if it weren’t for the other hand in his hair, lets the shock ripple into his bones, gets another hard strike before Snake is fucking the tight circle of his own fist in front of Kaz’s face, teeth grit, body tense. Deathly silent.

Kaz doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to stop watching, but blinks at the first shot of hot ejaculate striping his face. He opens his mouth, wanting to taste it, moans as it lands on his tongue. He catches all of his load, hungry for it, only settles back onto his haunches, panting, when Snake finally releases his hold.

Hands tear at his shoulders, and Kaz lets his arms drop, Snake pulling him to his feet. He feels like he’s floating as Snake’s mouth crushes to his, can taste the bitterness of his release, and he reaches for him, holds him closer, their bare chests touching. Snake pulls back, licks the seed off his face, the wetness from his eyes, tongues at his nose, and he almost laughs, feeling like some over-eager dog is trying too hard to say hello. It’s almost affectionate, those pleased noises his boss is making, and it’s strange that he likes this part the most. 

Then, he’s kissing him again, and Kaz tries to guide it. Is elated when his boss lets him, turns it into something a little more delicate, something with a little more finesse. His mouth feels absolutely ravaged, but when their tongues graze, when Snake lets him be a little more gentle, it’s perfect. It’s worth losing bits and pieces of himself, just for this.

When Snake pulls away, he isn’t ready to let him go. He holds himself back, fingers twitching at his sides, desperate. Snake smooths down his beard, levels his gaze at Kaz.

“What do you say?”

Instantly, he’s on edge again, but he forces a grin. Powers through it.

“Thank you, Boss.”

“Good,” says Snake, pats his cheek, thumb grazing his swollen lower lip. “You did good, Kaz.”

Kaz’s eyes flutter shut and, this. This he’ll remember.

His boss steps back, starts doing up his pants. Kaz gathers their shirts from the floor, pulls himself together. He’s sure his face is red, bruised, but it’s nothing unusual at this point. He’s probably looked worse after one of their encounters, even if he isn’t really sure when.

Snake passes him his shades. When their fingers touch it’s everything to him. 

He slides them back into place to cover his eyes, a million things on his mind, on the tip of his tongue. Everything seems to evaporate when his boss turns to look at him, smiles, _really_ smiles. All for him. He could get lost in his gaze forever, he’s sure of it.

The illusion dies at the sound of a knock at the door. He looks to the door, back to Snake, receives a nod of approval, then walks over, smoothing his hair back down. He opens up to find one of their men waiting there, alert.

“Sir!” He snaps a salute. He glances at Kaz’s face, winces at what he sees there, covering it up quickly. “Report.”

“Go ahead,” says Kaz, and his voice sounds wrecked, even to his own ears.

“We found an intruder lurking around the perimeter. We’ve got him in custody.”

Snake hums, thoughtfully. “Just one man?” 

“Yes, Boss.”

Kaz sighs. “Take us to him.”

The sky is black and inky overhead, the path ahead lit only by firelight, shadows heavy and dark in the dirt. Kaz keeps in step behind his boss, head down, until they fan out into a curve at the man kneeling, encaptured, twin rifles aimed at his head.

The kneeling man looks up as Snake steps into his space, and Kaz sharply inhales as recognition starts to dawn on him.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Luis opens his eyes, and there’s blood on his face, rage in his teeth. Nothing like the defeated man they’d rescued weeks ago. Changed, somehow.

“I want to join you, Boss. I want to fight.”

Snake extends his hand, palm out. Kaz watches, dazed, in slow-motion horror as Luis reaches for him, and like a steel trap snapping shut, bones crunching, the clang of metal, their fingers touch.

“Welcome home.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it hurts, but you like it.
> 
> Find me at highandholy.tumblr.com.


	4. Rip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: **This chapter features dubcon.** Fair warning. Also felching, rimming, choking, biting, spanking, slapping, humiliation, D/s, a whole bevy of nasty things. Metal Gear nonsense.

* * *

“Commander, where do you want--”

“Over there, with all the rest of the ammunition. Use your eyes, man.”

He turns around, clipboard in hand, to find another question, another task that needs doing. Sometimes he feels like a parent with a gaggle of overgrown children, always inquiring, but this was what he’d signed on for, to lead, to take care of the busy work. To streamline, provide some kind of direction.

Another new encampment, further from the ocean, deep in the jungle. It’s not optimal, an abandoned drug lab hollowed out by fire damage, and they’ve spent the better part of the day repairing the buildings, setting up tents. Moving equipment, hiding it out of sight.

Just when he’d gotten used to the last camp. He misses the beach. Misses the office they’ve exchanged for a mildew stinking hut covered in palm fronds. He desperately wants a cup of coffee, running on fumes, head pounding. He can’t rest until he’s certain everything is in place. Until everything is perfect.

He’s never really wanted somewhere to settle down so badly, somewhere to really build from the ground up. At least he’s finally got something that feels like home, in the bite marks on his thighs, the bruises around his neck.

He wipes the sweat from his brow, sighs. Too fucking hot in the jungle.

Another one of the men approaches, a medic, too gentle in the eyes, hands him sheets of paper. “Commander, the reports you asked for.” 

“Nothing missing or irreparably fucked up during transport, I hope,” says Kaz, starts a cursory scan of the inventory items jotted down in the medic’s borderline illegible scrawl. He’s gotten pretty good at making sense of even the worst handwriting, months and months of reading Snake’s godawful penmanship. He considers it another language entirely, something shared between them that only he can understand.

Feeling breath on the back of his neck, Kaz bristles, looks over. “Something else you needed?”

“Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.” 

Kaz blindly reaches to grasp the medic’s shoulder, in what he hopes is friendly reassurance, eyes still scanning the reports. “Never had a reason to doubt you before. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“No, I meant with you, Commander.” 

Kaz looks up, stares at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” 

“Kind of hot out for a scarf, isn’t it?” 

He’s instantly conscious of the weight of fabric around his throat, wondering if the bruising is peeking up over the cheery yellow knit, if it’s that obvious. Wonders if it’s just drawing attention. It wouldn’t be wise for the men to know just exactly what the sub-commander gets up to with his boss; it would undermine him. 

So, he does what he does best. Evades. “Are you really that hard up for a job to do that you’ve sunk to insulting my fashion sense? Jesus.” He smiles, focuses on the clipboard, tries to keep it light. 

“Sorry, Commander. Didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.” The medic clears his throat. “You just look a little… tired. Is all.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I can sleep when I’m dead.” He turns his back on him, staring holes through the clipboard, tries to ignore the unsettled feeling in his chest. Is it really that apparent? There’s no movement behind him, so he looks back, frowns. “What? You’re dismissed.”

He hears the heavy weight of boots moving to retreat behind him, just before they stop cold. “Boss!”

Kaz only glances over his shoulder to see Snake approaching, turns back to the clipboard as the medic makes himself scarce. There’s still too much left to be done before the sun sinks below the horizon, they’re losing daylight. He doesn’t even know where the fuck Snake has been all these hours, anyway. Off exploring the surrounding area, likely, evading the busy work required in moving a small army. Useless for Kaz, stuck with too much equipment to deal with, too many people to organize.

“What was that all about?” 

Kaz sighs heavily, lowers the clipboard. “What was _what_? We’re missing equipment, the axle on at least one of the 4x4’s is fucked, among the million other problems I’ve already had to fix. Of course you’d know, Snake, if you didn’t take off into the jungle to do God knows what.”

Snake chuckles, steps into his personal space, and Kaz lets his shoulders drop, relaxes a little bit. Whether or not he wants to admit it to himself, Snake’s presence is oddly reassuring amidst all the cacophony of transport, reorganization. He doesn’t like bearing all of the responsibility alone.

“You look like hell, Kaz,” says his boss, sliding a hand on the back of his neck. The weight of his palm is grounding, but his choice of words makes Kaz bristle. 

“Thanks, Boss, that’s absolutely what I needed to hear right now.” He rolls his eyes, but he can’t make the resentment stick, this twitchy smile teasing the corner of his lips. 

Snake squeezes the back of his neck, lets his hand drop. Fishes out a cigar. “Tough day, huh.”

“Mm, getting real sick of moving camp all the time. Skulking around.” He tosses the clipboard down on a crate he’s been using as a makeshift table, runs a hand over his slick, sweaty face. “How are we supposed to have any kind of stability or consistency if we’re ass-deep in a jungle, working out of burnt out narco labs because the feds won’t stop trying to sniff us out? Christ.”

“What, you were expecting white picket fences?” 

The constant click of his boss’ shitty lighter grates on his nerves. Kaz snatches it out of his hands, forces the light out with the precision of his thumb, handles it with more finesse than his boss. Snake lights up, blows smoke in his face on the first drag, and Kaz mostly manages to hold back the cough trying to crawl its way out of his throat.

He sets the lighter down next to the clipboard, sighs. Leans over, eyes scanning over lists, items, his focus drawn once more. He feels Snake move up beside him, again, the heat off his body hitting him like a wave. His presence is usually overwhelming, but Kaz’s mind is elsewhere.

The scent of smoke clouds his brain, and he tips his chin down, knuckles to forehead. He can’t concentrate like this, with his boss throwing him off-balance, and he has so much left to do. “Snake, would you just--”

“Let’s take a walk.”

He recognizes from his tone of voice that this is not a request. Though the work calls to him, Kaz looks at his boss with a degree of denial, quickly followed by reluctant acceptance. “Right,” he mutters, flippantly, “You’re the boss.”

He hates the jungle. The ropey vines strung overhead in the trees look like nooses, the terrain loose and unforgiving beneath his boots. The transport trucks had beaten down the undergrowth so the encampment is tucked into a clearing, but he misses the beach, the ocean spray on his face during drill. The way his boss had looked out in the open, moonlight on his craggy face.

Kaz scowls, banishes the thought away, eyes tracking the breadth of Snake’s shoulders where he walks up ahead. “So was there a point to this, or are you just wanting to waste even more of my time?”

“Thought you might find it useful to check up on the crew.”

Well, it isn’t _not_ useful. He huffs, surveys the men doing various jobs ahead of them, stacking crates, hitching up tents. The men patrolling further away. 

“I trust our guys, I don’t really see the point in--”

He’s interrupted as Snake’s hand swings out, finger pointing to a lone patrolman at the edge of the camp, a short distance away. Smoking, playing with his lighter. 

“Okay…” He watches as Snake’s hand drops again, then grunts as he’s tugged by the back of his uniform behind a tree, shoved down into a crouch. “What the hell, Boss?”

“Quiet.”

Kaz scowls, moves up as Snake motions for it, stays close. “You wanna explain to me what we’re doing sneaking around on our own base?” He lowers his voice as Snake stops up behind a crate, crowds up against his back. He can smell him this close, all smoke and sweat. He maybe leans a little closer, breathes in. 

“Look at him.”

“Okay… looking. Great, he’s there. What about him?”

“Gonna teach him a little lesson.”

“Don’t mess him up too bad. We’re already way over-budget on medical equipment.”

“You’re no fun Kaz.”

“If he shoots at us, I blame you.”

Snake tosses him a grin over his shoulder. “You need to lighten up.” 

His boss turns, peeks up over the crate, looking over to where the soldier hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Certainly not two of his superior officers lurking a few meters away. Kaz watches as he slinks forward, and it’s like something else entirely, something raw and wild as he shifts into a deeper combat stance. Preparing to strike. He can feel his own muscles shift to mirror the action, subconscious, follows tight against Snake as he moves effortlessly to the next cover point to get closer to their unsuspecting target.

They stay silent as they creep closer, Snake a step ahead of him, entirely focused on his prey. The concentration on his face is enthralling, and Kaz lets himself be swept away, stays low as they square up on him. Snake motions with a hand for him to keep steady, then he sinks down onto his elbows and knees in the dirt, approaching solo. 

From cover, Kaz watches with barely contained amazement as his boss does what he was made to do.

Belly to the ground, Snake crawls right up to their man’s ankles, looks up and waits for him to notice his presence. Gives him a few moments, an opportunity. When the man doesn’t immediately react, there’s a cocky look on Snake’s face that instantly annoys Kaz, warring with the delighted feeling he’s getting from this special presentation of his boss’ physical aptitude.

The speed at which he gets off the ground is nothing short of staggering, up to his feet to snap an arm around the soldier’s neck, lifting him, throwing him down hard. Kaz’s mouth opens to shout, this is one of their own, but Snake just grips his wrist, steps over him, puts a knee on his head. He starts to struggle, yells, just as he realizes _who_ has taken him down so quickly.

“B-Boss!”

Snake doesn’t reply to the utterance of his title, keeps the man down, hand snapping to his holster to retrieve his sidearm. There’s this instant thrill as he raises the gun, horror fluttering in Kaz’s gut, this is one of their own, he can’t want to shoot him just for slacking off. Would he really? Was he capable of something so cruel? Killing one of their own, senseless and violent.

The click of the safety is almost deafening in the haze of jungle noise, the hammer pulled back, and when he fires straight at the soldier’s head it’s like a nail bomb blast for Kaz. 

A dart hits the man in the forehead. Knocks him out cold.

The air leaves Kaz’s chest like a deflated tire. For a moment, he’s frozen, before scrambling up out of cover, approaching, assessing the damage. A few of the other men in the area, having noticed the scene, are looking over. No one approaches.

“He went down pretty fast,” comments Snake, blandly. He stands, letting the unconscious man drop unceremoniously to the ground on his back. “Not quite the same as a bullet, but I can see the benefit.”

He’d spent the better part of the last few weeks trying to talk his boss into a non-lethal alternative, gritting his teeth at Snake’s endless countering. He tries not to let the resentment show on his face, even if his pulse is still trying to slow down. Snake’s giving him one of those looks again that confuses every part of him, makes him giddy, gets his dick a little hard, makes him want to punch him so hard he drops dead. 

“I thought you’d lost your fucking mind for a minute there, Boss,” Kaz mutters, stepping closer to him, still wanting that legendary presence to rub off on him a little. Snake doesn’t answer him. The men watching look away, go about their business. Another day in the life in MSF.

Snake bends at the waist, reaches to pluck the dart out, brings it to eye level. He inspects for a moment, before tossing it to the ground, then lightly slapping the soldier across the face. Something in Kaz’s gut churns as the man sleepily comes back, eyes flying wide as he realizes where he is.

“Have a nice nap?” he asks, in that condescending, jokey tone that just makes Kaz’s hair stand on end. Snake offers a hand out to help the man up, and the second he’s on his feet, he salutes.

“Boss!”

“Relax.” Snake smiles, that disarming thing, and the soldier lets his hand drop, returns his grin. “New tranq rounds. Needed to see ‘em in action for myself. I appreciate you being my guinea pig.”

“Anything to help MSF grow, Boss.”

Kaz steps in at that, feeling strange, peculiar in the denouement of their interaction. He doesn’t want to call it jealousy, tries to shove it down, tries not to notice as the man’s face slides back to neutral upon facing Kaz’s stern expression. 

“Don’t let your guard down like that,” Kaz says, a little too sharply. He tempers his voice as he continues, “Anyone else, and you’d be dead.”

“Yes, Commander.”

They walk away with the assurance that their man is now clearly focused, alert. Maybe even a little embarrassed. Regardless, they’ve made a point to the rest of the men. It doesn't matter how tired they are, how bored. Someone is always watching.

Kaz lets out the uneasy laugh he’s been holding in his chest for the entire duration of the madness he’d witnessed. “I thought you were gonna shoot him for real. Jesus Christ.”

“Hn, you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Almost shitting my pants in fear? Yeah, _swell_ way to spend an afternoon, Boss.”

Snake turns to face him, and he stops, close enough to smell the staleness of his breath. “What makes you think I’d kill one of our guys?”

“The part that had to listen to you bitch for days on end about non-lethal weapons having no place on the battlefield.” 

His eye creases in amusement. Kaz’s hand balls into a fist at his side. 

“You need to trust your own judgment a little more, Kaz. Don’t you think I’d give you the benefit of the doubt?”

A moment, then Snake continues in a slightly more disparaging tone. “Surprising that you didn’t recognize the difference between a Hush Puppy and a regular M19.”

Messing with him. Again. Kaz scoffs, looks away, temper positively boiling. He’s so sick of the head games. He has work to do, real work, as much ‘fun’ as their little intermission had been. The sun’s getting low. 

“I don’t know what the fuck to think about you sometimes, Snake, okay?” he snaps, unthinking, feeling the stress in the back of his neck. “I’ve got _real_ work to do. Are we done here?”

Snake regards him evenly, and Kaz isn’t looking, doesn’t want to see what he assumes is disappointment on his face.

“Sure.”

“Great,” Kaz answers, irreverent, turns on his heel. 

His boss doesn’t follow after him, and he doesn’t expect him to. 

When he doesn’t see him as the moon rises in the distance, he starts to worry a little bit. Maybe he’d overstepped his bounds. He’ll have to apologize for his mouth. With his mouth, maybe. 

His dick thickens out a little bit when he thinks about it, draped over personnel reports. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand, looks out into the night.

The tent they continue to share is dark upon entry. Snake isn’t there. He decides not to worry about it. Continues to worry about it. Falls asleep, still worrying about it, because he’s too physically exhausted to stay awake. 

And when he’s jerked out of sleep, off his bed, face hitting the ground he fights back, fights hard, arms and legs thrashing as he’s forced up to his knees. “Fuck!” 

Disoriented, he drives an elbow back, gets his arm wrenched up behind his shoulder for his effort. Kaz cries out, kicks, is shoved face-first down to the ground again, wrists twisted up behind him, held together in a massive hand at his lower back. A buckle jingles near his ear, before his arms are tied back, tied _tight_ but he still has his legs, can still fight off his attacker, head pulled back in a vicious grip by the hair.

“Relax.”

“Snake,” he spits, recognizing that voice too quickly. He struggles in his restraint, tastes blood, Snake’s heavy weight on his hips. “What are you d--”

His face is shoved back down, and he spits, struggles. Stops after a moment when he realizes it’s just a waste of energy. Whatever his boss is going to do to him, he’s going to do it whether or not he fights back. Besides, it’s a little exciting, not being entirely in control.

Kaz breathes. Waits.

After a moment, Snake moves off, lifts him by the arms and deposits him carelessly onto his cot. Kaz’s face hits the blanket and he’s overwhelmed by the scent of his boss for a moment, before Snake crowds down over him, the weight of his body crushing the breath from his lungs. 

He’s distinctly aware after a moment that Snake isn’t wearing anything, and this shot of fear goes through him at the touch of skin on skin. 

Every encounter they’ve had previous, his boss has never been fully undressed. Carefully controlled, covered before him. They still haven’t even fucked. He won’t ask for it. Snake always makes him ask.

He vaguely wonders if that’s about to change.

“Boss,” he mumbles, voice muffled by the mattress. He’s distinctly aware of the rub of his nipples against the scratchy covers, how thin his briefs are. How little protection he has. He can feel every place they touch, shoulder to chest, the hot length of Snake’s cock pressing against the back of his thigh. His breath against the nape of his neck. 

He twists his hands a little where they’re tied, but the restraint holds. His fingers brush up against Snake’s pubic hair, and he tries to gain purchase, tries to pinch, but his head is forced back by a vice grip on the tender hair at the base of his skull. 

“Snake, if you wanna fool around, you just need to ask,” he says, never losing that edge of sarcasm he clings so tightly to. His armor, cracking at the seams.

Snake chuckles, low and gruff in his ear. “Do I?”

Kaz tries not to let the fear show on his face. He can see the sharp line of Snake’s profile out of his peripherals, tries to focus his gaze forward. Tries to be somewhere else. His wrists start to chafe against the bindings, and he wills himself to relax, even if it’s hard to breathe with Snake still mostly on top of him. 

The hand gripping the back of his hair shifts to his temple, brushes back the locks curling out of place there. For some reason, this is what makes Kaz try to pull away, makes him sweat, his boss leaning over and licking a stripe up the side of his face. Kaz grunts, squirms beneath him, turns away as Snake’s tongue slides wetly against the corner of his mouth.

“Easy,” he says again, so close to his ear. Like saying it will do anything. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“Enjoy what?” 

Snake doesn’t answer him. Instead, he rises up and off, slides down the length of his body. His fingers hook into the waistband of his briefs, tug them down his thighs. He doesn’t lift his hips, doesn’t make a point to help. Just lays there on his belly, fingers twitching into his palms. 

He’s startled when a finger suddenly hooks into his mouth, pries his teeth open. A wad of fabric is shoved in against his tongue, and he realizes with a start it’s his own underwear, shoved far back enough that he actually gags. He can’t spit it out face-down like this, makes a noise, shoulders shifting, before his boss settles a big palm down on his back.

“You always have to fight me, even if it’s what you want, don’t you? It’s okay, Kaz. I’m not going to hold it against you. It’s just you and me.”

Kaz can’t even scoff, mouth full. He tenses as Snake’s hands grip over his thighs, trying to force them apart. He gets a hard, flat-knuckled punch to the outer thigh for his resistance, and his whole leg spasms, foot flexing. It gives Snake enough leverage to push, and Kaz has no choice but to spread for him, the center of him exposed. Snake kneels over his legs, keeps him trapped. He can’t move.

The moment the flat of Snake’s thumb presses against his asshole, he lets his eyes flutter shut, breathes hard through his nose. The slow, circular motion against his hole feels good, makes him push back against the contact. It’s nothing they haven’t done before, his body knows this feeling, cock thickening out with blood under him. Snake’s free hand grips an ass cheek, pulls him apart, the tip of his thumb pressing in just enough for him to tighten up.

That hand cracks down hard on his ass, and Kaz grunts, tries not to shy away. He doesn’t want to look any weak. He can’t be weak. Snake grips down, digs his nails into the swell of flesh, sucks back a mouthful of saliva and spits down onto his crack. He feels it slide down to where his thumb is dipped into him, Snake spreading it over his hole.

Snake pushes his thumb in, muscles contracting wildly, Kaz struggling to relax, the digit sinking to the hilt in one go. The stretch is uncomfortable, not painful, they’ve done this enough that his ass can handle it. It’s unnerving without being able to see what Snake is doing, and Kaz angles his face as much as he can, can only see a shadow looming over him in the dark. Can only feel it.

He fucks his thumb in and out for awhile, free hand spreading him, and Kaz can almost relax, can almost pretend like this is all that’s going to happen. His shoulders are starting to ache from the angle, hands limp, but the way Snake is prodding into him isn’t unpleasant. He moans a little, his thighs spreading wider despite himself, and he can hear Snake laugh at him. Just enough that his face burns.

His ass clenches as Snake pulls his thumb out, switches after a moment for two wet, thick fingers. It burns a little as they sink into his asshole, right to the last knuckle without pause, thumb teasing the stretched rim.

“Look at you. Just taking it.”

Kaz digs his fingernails into his palms.

“The way your body reacts when I touch you here... you love this, don’t you?”

He stays dead silent, turns his face back into the blanket. He’s not going to give him the satisfaction. 

His tongue pushes at the fabric in his mouth. He could probably get it out.

Another firm slap on his ass, quickly covered by Snake’s mouth, teeth digging into the meat of his ass. He tenses as his boss bites down, bites _hard_ , fingers still working inside of him. This high noise works its way out of his throat, he can’t help it, Snake sucking down hard on his skin, leaving a mark he’ll feel for days after. 

He flexes again when Snake’s palm comes down on the fresh bruise, holds back a sigh when he hits him again. And again. His fingers twitch and convulse against his back, Kaz just takes it, jaw working, if he could just call out. 

It wouldn’t matter. He knows there’s no getting out of this. He’d asked for it, after all, like looking out into deep, dirty water. Diving in, head first. No way of knowing what was down there in the depths. Black and brackish, flooding every orifice. His own body, bloated and heavy with it. Drowning.

“Kaz. Stay with me.”

He comes back to himself with a start, resisting again, and his whole ass, his thigh aches desperately. There’s more pressure in his hole, three fingers, maybe, steadily rocking in and out of him. Pulling out to just the very tip of the fingers, just where Kaz can sigh and clench at the empty feeling, then pushed back in, his hole fluttering around the length of the intrusion.

He works his jaw, tries to get the briefs out of his mouth. He’s fucked if he can’t talk, they both know it, Snake always _challenging_ him. He won’t be beat, not like this. He shifts onto his right shoulder, torso twisting, gets his head to the side. Drags his face back to try to free the makeshift gag from his mouth.

“You’re doing good. I’ve got three in you.”

Kaz gasps, feels the thumb tease around the rim again. He wants to see Snake’s face. Can’t get a read on him like this, can’t tell what’s going to come. It’s fine. This is what he wanted. It’s fine.

“I bet you could take four.”

His breathing comes harder, and he really starts to tense in his bonds, tries to find a weak point. Snake is going to wreck him. Rip him apart from the inside, leave him bleeding, emptied out. 

He frantically works his mouth around the gag, he needs his leverage. His mouth is so dry, and he blinks furiously, gets his ass slapped so hard he cries out, muffled, he can’t help it.

“You know I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you.” Snake laughs, like it’s the funniest goddamn joke he’s heard in his entire life. “Still, I think you could take my fist. Maybe my whole arm.” He makes this pleased noise that Kaz hears, somewhere vaguely above him, because his own ears are ringing so badly he can barely tell. “Then I could really feel you, Kaz. Inside.”

He finally spits the briefs out, saliva trailing down his chin. “ _Don’t_. Don’t.”

It comes out so urgently, so guttural, he instantly wishes he was dead. Kaz tenses, tries to ward off anything thicker inside of him, even as he feels Snake slide his smallest finger in tight to the other three, tempting the swollen edge of his stretched entrance. 

“You want me to stop?”

Does he want it to stop? His cock is leaking, rock hard. It feels good, even if it hurts a little bit. 

But does he want it to stop?

The tip of Snake’s fourth finger pushes into his ass, snug against the rest. Kaz flinches away from it, and it stings, he’s going to _rip him apart_.

“Kaz, you underestimate yourself.”

“Don’t,” he pleads, breathless. It isn’t going to stop. “Don’t, _Snake_ , I can’t--”

“You don’t want my hand?”

“Fuck. _Fuck!_ ” He sucks back the wetness in his mouth, forces himself to stop shaking. “Your dick. Use your dick.”

Snake doesn’t immediately react. Pulls out the third and fourth finger, a moment of reprieve, gently fucks the remaining two fingers inside of him. Kaz pants, misses the girth, is terrified for what’s to come. He’d asked to be _fucked_. His face burns with shame.

“What was that?”

“Fuck me,” he urges, pushing his hips back onto his hand. “Put your dick in.”

“You sure?”

He wheezes out a laugh, squeezes his eyes shut. “Just do it.”

When Snake eases his fingers out of his ass, he clenches, feels instantly empty. He’s aware that he’s gaping a little bit, and he buries his face, listens as Snake levers off, pads off to his side of the tent to ruffle around for something. 

He doesn’t bother trying to get up. Trying to escape. It’s just easier to take it.

The metal frame creaks as Snake kneels down alongside him, and he opens his eyes at the foil packet that lands next to his head, instantly confused. “A condom?” 

“I don’t really know where you’ve been,” murmurs Snake, unscrewing the lid on what looks like petroleum jelly, setting that down next to his head. “You understand, Kaz.”

“Y-yeah.” 

Kaz lays there, detached, until Snake slides his hands under both of his hips, helps him up to his knees. It’s uncomfortable, balanced on the tips of his shoulders and his face like this, but the angle leaves his ass higher, a better vantage for Snake to fuck him into the ground. It’s actually happening. Snake is going to fuck him.

His boss swipes a finger through the gel, disappears behind him. When his fingers, sufficiently more slick, press into his asshole, it feels so fucking good. He moans, pushes back to meet him, just takes it. He just takes it.

The fingers reappear in his line of sight, take the condom. His gut crawls. He feels dirty.

His ass is empty again, slick, clenching at nothing. He listens to the crackle of foil, the plastic sound that he recognizes as his boss rolling on the condom. He tenses his wrists. Feels the blunt head of a cock settle against the dip of his tailbone, move lower, catch on the loosened rim of his hole.

“Jesus,” he mutters. Curls his chin into his chest. Tries to breathe.

There’s a hand on his ass, steadying him, Snake pressing inward just a little. He wills himself to relax, breathes. Snake rocks against him, gives him a bit more each time, and he inhales sharply as he feels his ass start to open, take him until the head slides in.

His spine arcs, and he strains away, Snake digging his fingers into his hip, keeping him in place. “Breathe.” 

He does. Snake pushes in as he exhales. Gives him a few more inches. It stings a little, but he adjusts to the thickness, and oh, God, he’s actually taking his boss’ cock inside of him. It’s actually happening.

“Boss--”

“Relax.”

He does. Lets his face soften. It’s starting to feel good, that intense pressure, all he can focus on. Snake is _inside_ of him. He’s letting his boss fuck him like a woman. Worse, still, he wants it. He wants it so bad, tenses his legs, slides back a little on his own accord. Moans as he feels the stretch, his own cock so fucking hard, dripping wet between his legs.

“You’re tighter than I thought you’d be,” murmurs Snake, leaning down over his back, caging him in. Kaz grunts as he pulls out a little, pushes back in. “You feel good.” 

His boss presses a kiss to his neck, runs his palms, warm and a little tacky, down the sides of his torso. Pushes in a little more, until he can feel the scratch of pubic hair against the sensitive skin of his ass. In, deeper still, balls touching. 

God, it’s all of him. Kaz swallows, clenches his eyes shut, feels his ass pulse around the thick length inside of him. “You’re inside of me,” he mumbles, and his voice sounds somewhere far away. “Boss…”

Snake settles back onto his knees, fingers sliding into the divots of his hips. Doesn’t say a damn word as he pulls out, thrusts back in. Kaz chokes, rocks forward with it, and it’s the only real warning he gets before his boss starts moving, fucking into him, hard and deep and intense. He breathes shakily through his nose, and the friction hurts, he’s just so damn big and hard and _it fucking hurts_.

He only flinches when he pushes in to the hilt, flesh slapping, tries to inch away. Snake doesn’t stop, digs his fingers into his hip with bruising force, switches a hand to settle between his shoulders and push him down. Put him in his place. 

Kaz turns his face to the side, tries to look back. Twists his hands in, tries to breathe. It’s too much. He can’t take it.

“Boss, I can’t…” He swallows, tries to fight the panic down. 

“Am I too much for you?”

Fucking egotistical smug _asshole_. He grits his teeth.

“Kaz?”

“...Would it kill you to use a little more lube?” His voice cracks towards the end, high and embarrassing.

A chuckle. “You just had to ask.”

So like his boss. If he could just get one hand free, he’d reach back and strangle him. Watch him die while riding his dick. If he could just get free.

Snake reaches for the jar beside him, and he can see him for an instant, that focused look on his face, just before he sits back. Kaz starts a little as he feels more of the gel massaged into his swollen entrance, and he’s so oversensitive there, hot to the touch. He moans despite himself, pushes into it. The slide is easier, God, he fucking _likes it_ , fucks back onto him. It feels good.

Kaz finds a shallow rhythm, gets a little more daring, pushes back further. God, _there_ , his entire body jolts at a particular angle and he pants, fucks back onto his boss’ cock, takes all of it. 

“Oh, Jesus--”

And when his boss takes over again it’s incredible, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He can just let go, can just lay there and take it, mouth open, moaning unabashedly. Snake curls a big hand around his wrists, uses it as an anchor and fucks him savagely, bruised ass aching with every resounding slap of flesh, but oh god he wants it, he wants to be used like this. Anything for his boss. Anything.

“Fuck-- _uhn_ , yes, _Boss_ , fuck me, fuck me, f--” He breaks off into a low, strung out moan, just takes his cock, feels the pleasure start to build somewhere deep inside him. He could come just from being fucked like this, could die like this. “Ah!” 

“Good, right?”

He can’t respond, keening high in his throat, Snake driving into him with increased force, rocking him forward with every thrust. He spreads his legs as much as he can, pushes back onto his dick, gets another slap on the ass, arcs into it.

Snake slides his hands under his thighs, presses them out wider, until Kaz pitches forward until he’s flat on his belly again, the cock slipping out of his ass. He instantly feels empty, shamelessly whines for it. Snake tips him onto his side, spooning behind him, hitches Kaz’s leg up, slides back into him deep and sweet. Slower. 

The breach doesn’t hurt anymore, and Kaz moans as he’s opened up around him. Like he’s meant to be there.

“Snake…”

They’re so close like this, sweat trapped beneath their bodies, Snake mouthing up his neck, his ear. Hand on his hip, pulling Kaz hard against the cradle of his pelvis, giving him his cock. Filling him.

Kaz turns his head back, Snake catching his mouth, and they kiss, sloppy and wet. He closes his eyes, lets his face soften, lets his tongue out to taste. Feels a palm cup the curve of his throat. An arm come under him, until he’s held, until he feels safe. Cherished.

At least until Snake’s arm catches the opposite wrist, starts to constrict down over the vulnerable part of his trachea. Kaz’s eyes snap open, and he starts to panic again, chokes as the pressure comes down. “Boss--”

“Don’t fight it.”

He fights. Kicks back, tries to push him away, even as Snake’s knee pins his thigh, hips still rolling into him. Snake’s breath comes hard and sharp next to his ear, he doesn’t make a sound otherwise, just that rhythmic breathing, so tightly controlled. 

Kaz chokes, feels the air stop in his lungs, feels his vision start to fade. He’s going to die here, in Snake’s arms, fucked out like this. Ruined. 

“Sn-- Snake--” He gasps. 

His arms thrash in their binding, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He can’t breathe, _can’t breathe_ , whole body tensing, tightening.

And then nothing.

At least until he’s gently slapped back to wakefulness. Disoriented. Confused. He feels empty, gaping. Snake runs a hand through his hair, soothing him like a child. 

“Boss?” he mumbles, leaning into that soft touch.

“You went out for a minute there.” He laughs, and Kaz can feel it reverberating behind him, the purr of some overlarge jungle cat. “You know struggling makes it worse.”

“I-- yeah,” he says, trying to put the pieces together. “What--”

Snake leans forward, kisses the side of his face, then slinks down the length of his body. Eases his thighs open, thumbs sliding into the crease of his ass, parting him. Kaz moans as Snake’s mouth touches against his hole, tongue sliding out to spear through him, before his lips seal around, suck hard. 

He tenses up reflexively, even as Snake’s hand reaches around for his cock, jacks him hard. He has nowhere to move, his boss’ tongue fucking eagerly into him, whole face buried in his ass. Kaz memorizes every hungry noise his boss is making, sears it into his brain, the slick feeling of his tongue and lips against such a raw part of him, hand on his cock.

When he comes his eyes are wet, unfocused, his head curling back, shoulders tight. Snake doesn’t stop licking into him, even as the last few spurts of cum drip down his cock onto the cot, and it almost starts to hurt he’s so oversensitive.

“Snake, please…”

“Push down a little.”

His voice is muffled, and Kaz feels his face burn, what the fuck kind of request is that? God, he doesn’t want him to-- he wasn’t really that depraved, he couldn’t-- 

Snake fucks his tongue in deep. He can hardly stand it, moans for it, cock twitching pathetically. He does as he’s told. 

Any wayward, humiliating thought Kaz might have vanishes as Snake slaps his ass, works his way back up his body. Tucks him in against his front, holds him close, then reaches for his face, turns him enough that he can seal their mouths together.

His senses are overwhelmed by the chemical taste of the lube, latex, blood, something else. The surprising, bitter taste of ejaculate. He gags a little as the fluid slides into his mouth, and he has no choice but to swallow.

Snake pulls away and stares down at him with that lone eye. Kaz’s lower lip starts shaking.

“You... came inside of me.” 

“Yeah.”

“But-- the condom?”

“Changed my mind.”

Blood pounds in his ears. His eyes sting. He looks away, at least until Snake corrects him, forces him to return his gaze. Kaz can’t look at him, suddenly exhausted, suddenly wanting nothing more than to just curl up, lick his wounds in private.

“Take a breath.”

He does. It’s a little better.

“I’m going to free your hands.”

The tone of his voice makes it clear that making any sudden move is inadvisable. Kaz doesn’t have it in him, anyhow, numb from the shoulder down. Snake eases him out of his restraints, maneuvers him up to seated, slumped over, hands in his lap. His fingers tingle, fill with blood, his wrists red and raw.

Snake wraps an arm around Kaz’s back, kisses his temple. It’s hard not to lean into it. Kaz doesn’t resist after a moment, it just feels too good to be close to him like this. To be allowed this.

“I think this is the quietest you’ve ever been, Kaz.”

Kaz smiles weakly. 

Snake chuckles, nuzzles his face against his hair. They stay like that for a moment. He can almost pretend.

He pulls away. Kaz sighs, unable to hold it back, closes his eyes as Snake leans in to kiss him. It’s appallingly tender. Kaz deepens it with a slow glide of tongue, and his boss lets him set the pace, lets him reach out to touch. His fingers skim up Snake’s arms, and it’s like every centimeter of skin laid bare to him is like opening a rare gift. Secret and unknown.

Kaz leans into it with his whole body. Snake’s hands slide up his shoulders, hold Kaz steady as Snake draws away, kisses down his jaw, nuzzles his face back into the hollow of his neck. Inhales deep.

“Mm, you smell like me.”

The words leave him, hesitant and small, “You like that?”

“Yeah.”

It’s possessive. Kaz thinks he’s okay with being a little possessed. 

Snake shifts back, hand slipping down to his lower back. “Get some rest, Kaz.”

Of course they aren’t going to sleep together. He didn’t assume for a second. Kaz’s foot lands on the ground, then the other, and he shakily rises to his feet. His whole lower body aches, his shoulders burn, and when he crashes down to his knees, leg numb, it’s not entirely unsurprising. Kaz can’t even bring himself to be even more embarrassed than he already is. He just grits his teeth, struggles to stand.

What _is_ surprising is Snake hauling him up, helping him over to his own bed. Letting him gently down, kissing him on the mouth again. 

“Close your eyes.”

He does. 

He sleeps distressingly well.

* * *

Everything hurts.

The first sensation upon awakening is low, radiating agony all through his body. Naked, he sits up, winces, slides his legs out from under the covers. Puts his feet gingerly on the ground.

The entire outside of his thigh is mottled, dark and purple. He pushes down on the contusion, and it’s hard and hot to the touch. His wrists are bruised and bloody. Raw. His ass hurts in more ways than one. 

After a moment of staring, he drags the blanket over his legs to cover himself. He can’t look at the bruises, can’t think about last night. He’d made such a damn fool out of himself.

Kaz lowers his head into his hands, takes a shaky breath through his parted fingers.

He jerks upright as the flap of the tent swings open, sunlight boring through the gap. His boss ducks inside, fully dressed, smiling. Kaz watches him approach uneasily.

“Boss,” he mutters, feeling weird and a little vulnerable. He quickly clears his throat, his voice coming out a croak. His neck hurts. “Did I… sleep in?”

“Yeah. I figured you could use a little extra rest.” He laughs. “Christ, look at you.”

“No shit.” Kaz averts his eyes, rubs his hands over his wrists.

He doesn’t want his boss to look at him. Doesn’t want him to come near. At the same time, there’s this urge to just throw himself into his arms, plead for him not to go. He’s so utterly confused.

That feeling doesn’t reduce when a hand settles on his head. He doesn’t budge, as Snake runs his fingers through his hair, slides his hand down to gently massage his throat. His eyes slide shut, and he groans, lets himself enjoy it.

“I told you not to fight it.”

Kaz doesn’t respond. It hurts. He closes his eyes, allows himself to enjoy the touching. The lie. 

“How’s your ass?”

His eyes snap open. “Boss--” His mouth goes dry, and he babbles for a moment, nostrils flaring. “I-- that’s--”

“You’re not getting shy on me now. Come on, show me.”

Snake grips him around the bicep, pulls him forward to his feet, revealing him. He has no choice but to move.

He winces as he stands, lets himself be manhandled to turn around. "Snake, come on, this is--" A hand flattens between his shoulders, and with a little bit of resistance, he bends over. Sets his sweaty palms on the cot, tries to stare off into nothing as Snake crouches down behind him.

“Spread your legs.”

He does, hyper aware of his nakedness, of the light outside the tent. Anyone could just walk in, see him like this. Presenting himself. 

When Snake indelicately jabs at one of the bite marks, he hisses, bows his head. 

“Broke the skin a few times.”

“You bite hard,” he spits back.

Snake’s thumbs slide between his cheeks, spread him apart. Kaz goes tense, starts to sweat under his arms as he feels his boss’ breath, fanning warm against his hole. Feels him move in closer, hears him inhale deeply.

A finger nudges against his asshole, massages a little. Kaz’s lips part, he sighs. “Mm, you’re a little swollen, but probably not torn up. At least not too bad. I went easy on you.” Snake pulls the finger away, brings it back wet, pulls his hole open. Holds him exposed like that, just looking into the tender pink of his insides.

“Could be worse.” A stinging slap to the ass, and Kaz’s cock, the traitor, gives a weak twitch between his legs. 

He stands when his boss does, slouching, already half-hard and utterly humiliated. Kaz just wants to turn away, cover himself, hide rather than face him right now. He doesn’t even fight it when Snake slides an arm around him, pulls him in close. 

“Come here.”

They don’t do this in broad daylight, or when they’re not fucking around. This closeness. It sets him on edge as his boss kisses the side of his face, finds his mouth, but he moans into it as their tongues touch, pushes his dick up against Snake’s hip. His hands find his boss’ shoulders, cup his face, pull him closer, eating into his mouth greedily. 

When Snake’s hand seizes the front of his throat to push him away, he holds his breath. Relaxes. 

The grip softens, but he doesn’t let go.

And Kaz can’t help it, this nervous laughter bubbling out of him, oh god, and Snake’s brow furrows for a moment before he follows, loud and overwhelming, driving all the air out of the room. They hold one another, almost crying with it, until they’re breathless, clinging to each other desperately.

Snake gives him a last, brusque pat on the back, releases him fully. “You’re gonna want to get dressed, Kaz.”

He misses the contact instantly, but looks away. Doesn’t let it show. He turns, reaches for a fresh uniform with a shaking hand. 

“Why, we got somewhere to be?”

* * *

It’s midnight when they roll up outside the meeting point, white moonlight pouring through the breaks in the jungle overhead. Kaz kills the engine, the headlights dying off, enveloping them in darkness. 

Birds cry in the distance. Kaz looks to his side, finds Snake unreadable as ever.

“Hell of a place for a meeting,” Kaz mutters, reaching for the door handle. 

They near silently walk towards the abandoned, rickety shack, the blackened wood overwhelmed by vines, great stretches of greenery pouring down the siding. In another life it had likely served as a safe-house, or a place to store hostages, now likely primarily abandoned save for their little ‘appointment’. There’s a dim light inside, and the door’s open.

His boss stops up short. scowling, and Kaz halts, looks over. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” His hand slips over Kaz’s shoulder, walks him forward. “Make me proud.”

The first thing Kaz notices as they enter the small, square room is that there are more bodyguards than they’d agreed on. Of course they have a handful of their own men on standby at a near distance, but this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He opens his mouth up to protest, to call it off, but Snake gives him an expectant look, and he reluctantly spreads his arms and legs to be frisked, disarmed.

Once cleared of weapons, they sit down side by side in mismatched chairs. Kaz peers behind the barrier of his shades upon the potential client across the table, gaze lingering over the buttons straining against the swell of his gut, over the rings, the watch. A Rolex, yellow gold. Gorgeous. His mouth waters, and he smiles, flicks his eyes up to the client’s disparaging face. 

“So,” he starts, dropping into business mode, all placating smiles, “We heard you were having a bit of trouble with the locals?”

They spend the better part of the hour drawing up a contract, talking out specifics, and although Kaz does most of the talking he can’t help but get the distinct impression that nobody’s really listening to him, that something else is stirring under the surface. Still, he goes through the motions, belying nothing other than pure confidence, does the whole song and dance. Snake makes comments here and there, but mostly watches, mouth flat.

The client keeps staring at his boss, and Snake is staring back, unyielding. Just as Kaz starts to wind down his business spiel the client crosses his arms, leans back in his chair, upper lip curling as he turns to him.

“Who is this kid?” 

The smile on Kaz’s face snaps into a wide, sardonic grin. Snake’s brow twitches, and he stays still as a statue.

“I went to the trouble of coming all this way, out of the comfort of my own home to meet _him_.” He gestures grandiosely to Snake, then sneers over at Kaz. “Not listen to you.”

Laughter bubbles up from the men around them. Kaz screws the smile onto his face. Snake stays still.

“Although up close… eh. Hard to believe you were the one who took out The Boss all those years ago.” He laughs, and it rings hollow through the room. “You let us take your weapons so easily! You’re too trusting.”

Snake shakes his head, expression betraying nothing. “Don’t need ‘em.”

“Are you sure of that… _Big Boss_?”

Kaz slaps a hand on the table. “Okay, look, if you just want to jerk us around, great, you got the chance, free of charge. I was under the impression you had a real job for us, but if that isn’t the case, we can see ourselves out.”

“An American hero,” he continues, like Kaz hadn’t spoken at all, “so desperate for a little money he’s sunk to wet-work out here in this godforsaken country. Getting his hands dirty.”

“Hey, you said a _lot_ of money,” says Kaz, keeps the jokey tone even as the tension in the room starts to ramp up. The bodyguard directly to his right reaches for his holster. Itchy fingers.

“Yes, the bounty for the capture of Big Boss is indeed _a lot_ of money. Which is why I intend to take him alive. You, on the other hand...”

Kaz hears the movement of air behind him as a gun levels at his head, and this sense of calm washes over him, everything falling into sharp focus. He’s primed for a fight. Ready. Can feel his boss’ raw energy beside him, feeds off of it.

“So… let me get this straight,” he starts, biting, tone slow and sweet as honey, “You invite _Big Boss_ , the most legendary soldier in possibly the _entire world_ out into the middle of a jungle where nobody’s likely to ever find _any_ of your bodies, and your bright idea is to… threaten him?” 

“And with only--” He pauses, looks around, “--one, two-- only a dozen guys to protect you?” He snorts. “Wow. Ballsy.”

To his credit, their client shows no hint of weakness on his face. Nothing to betray his confidence, aside from the sweat beading high on his forehead. 

Kaz quirks his brow, cocksure, even as he feels the barrel of the gun settle at the back of his head. 

“You _really_ think you have what it takes to beat him?”

“I have no use for you or your dramatics. _Mátalo_.”

The client gestures, Kaz hears the hammer click, and in an instant, everything seems to slow down around him into a series of movements, staggered, sharp.

One, Snake’s hand slashes out, swipes him over the chest and throws him back, two, Snake’s up and out of his chair, dismantling the man’s gun with one hand, metal clattering to the ground. Kaz hits the wooden floor hard, scrambles to upright the table, throws it in front of him like a barricade, and three, he’s watching his boss effortlessly slip around the swarm, fluid, acting entirely on instinct.

Kaz lays there, dazed and largely forgotten, before he notices the client approaching his boss, face contorted in a snarl, gun in hand.

On instinct, he throws his weight forward at the knees, topples the client onto his side, reaches for the gun. He gets pistol-whipped across the mouth for his effort, swings back, gets a knee over the man’s elbow, balancing unsteadily on top of him. Kaz grapples with him for the gun, digs his feet in, manages to slam his hand against the ground a few times sending the weapon spinning away.

Kaz reaches for him, gets smacked away, throws a loose punch, all technique forgotten in the fray. He just wants to strangle the fucker, calling him ‘kid’, disregarding him, _degrading_ him like that. Going after _his_ boss like that.

The client is no match for him physically, but he’s got enough weight that Kaz can’t hold him down, gets bucked off, is sent rolling away as he tries to crawl back to cover. But Kaz clambers up behind him, gets an arm around his neck and _pulls_ , smashes a fist into his face, feels teeth cut into his knuckles, gets him on his back again.

He keeps hitting, keeps him pinned under his legs, swings his arm back until his shoulder aches with it. His mind whites out, and all he can picture is Snake laying between his thighs, gored, taking his fist over and over and _over_ and God, he wants him to hurt, wants him to hurt as much as _he_ hurts, wants him to understand with every molecule in his body that he can’t go around being so reckless with other people’s hearts. His heart. All of him, bruised and broken, aching, all for him. 

“Kaz.”

For some reason hearing that voice just makes him see red, and he clenches his fist, nails him again, head rocking back and he isn’t really breathing underneath him anymore. He’s gurgling blood, the entire right side of his face caved in, one eye wrecked, clear fluid leaking from the socket. His hand aches, but he _can’t stop_ , wants to kill him, wants to own his death.

“Kaz, he’s dead.”

There’s a touch at the back of his head and he finally stops, breathing hard. Slowly comes back to himself. He reaches for his shades, finds them missing from his face. Sees them a few feet away, reflecting back at him.

His hands are covered in blood. 

Swallowing thickly, he sits back on his haunches, looks down at the man he’s utterly destroyed. Not Snake, not his boss; instead, their would-be client with his face caved in, utterly unidentifiable. He’d really fucked him up.

Snake extends his hand, palm out. Kaz takes it, shakily rises to his feet.

“Christ.” His boss laughs, face split with a grin. “He really got to you, huh.”

Kaz just breathes, whole chest heaving, and the details start to fill in around him again. Snake’s incapacitated or killed every other human being in the room, bodies on the ground, and he’d laid their boss out like a sacrifice in the middle, killed him sloppy and reckless, utterly _wrecked_ him.

He wipes the back of his mouth with his forearm. Tastes blood.

As he lowers his hand, Snake snatches his wrist, pulls it up to eye-level. Plucks a shard of bone, a tooth, maybe, out of his split knuckles. Kaz watches with detached fascination as Snake pulls the hand to his mouth, runs his tongue over the wound. Licks the blood off his fingers. It stings. 

“Boss… I--” He can’t stop watching the slow drag of his tongue, feels the tension drain out of him. “I lost control.”

“Who were you thinking of,” his boss says, mouth red, “when you were killing him?”

“I--”

“Was it me?”

“...Yeah.” 

Snake laughs at him. Kisses his knuckles. Kaz moans for him. Not like he has any dignity left to preserve. 

His boss lets the hand drop after a moment, licks his lips. Looks down to the ground. Kaz gazes on as Snake turns, then kneels down next to the body. He gently pulls the Rolex off the distended hand, turns it over in his fingers, wiping the faceplate off with his thumb.

Standing, he looks at Kaz, and smirks. “Saw you eyeing this earlier.”

Kaz holds his arm out. He lets his boss slide it over his bloodied hand onto his wrist and clasp it shut. Like a shackle. 

Snake steps back, gives him a once-over. “It suits you.” 

He’s not sure if he’s talking about the watch.

It’s only then that he radios their team in. Snake steps out into the night air, and Kaz remains. Cleaning up his mess, as usual, the weight of gold heavy and present around his wrist. The price of his heart.

* * *

Business is good. Time seems to move quickly in the heat. It’s easy to take his place at Snake’s side, easy to fold under his wing, be the man that he was shaped into. 

He stays in line. He hates that it's honest to god the best he’s ever felt in his life. Like something just clicks between them after everything, and all of a sudden he can read his boss a little better, can pick up on his nuances based on just a sound, or a look. Like Snake is finally letting himself be seen.

It gets easier to ask for it. Sometimes his boss just wants to watch him jerk off, play with his ass, and Kaz likes the attention a little too much. They fuck a lot, Snake sometimes waking him in the night, dragging him over to his bed with considerably more finesse than that strange first time he prefers not to think about too hard. 

He doesn’t think about it, not when his head is full of images of Snake looming above him, his hands pinning him down, holding him there.

Snake always fucks him face down. Kaz never gets to see what he looks like during orgasm, but it’s easy enough to imagine it. He focuses on what it might look like every time he comes, every time Snake brings him off with his hand, his mouth, his cock.

Kaz notices where his boss puts up walls. His past is off limits. He’d pried too much at one point, gotten his ass kicked, then the cold shoulder for a few days. He’d managed to earn back his favor on his knees.

They don’t sleep together after fooling around. Snake doesn’t let him stay, and he can’t bring himself to ask.

It occurs to him one day, Snake’s hand on the back of his neck after a debriefing, that he might _belong_ to Snake. That Snake might actually feel that way about him. Ownership. 

That impression doesn’t exactly go away when every time, after they fuck, Snake bends him over, inspects him for damage. Somehow, it’s always his favorite part, what he craves, even if he doesn’t quite feel like himself with his boss deconstructing him, putting him back together like a toy. 

He’s just a tool in his boss’ arsenal like any other. He understands his place. He doesn’t accept it. Can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be _more_ than just that to him. What else he’d have to offer up to get there. 

Summer drags towards fall. Every day that wears on, it gets harder to stop thinking about his laugh, the light of his eyes. Kaz plucks his guitar strings in increasingly rare quiet moments, his boss invading his thoughts. He can’t get rid of him anymore, and he isn’t even sure he wants to. So maybe he _likes_ Snake. 

It’s not like he can just talk to him about it. What the hell would they talk about? But it gets harder to stop himself from sharing things about his past, and he looks for any excuse to bring up a story, an anecdote. He just likes touching him, in the brief moments Snake allows it, likes playing with his hair, feeling the bulge of muscle in his arms. It gets harder to deny himself.

It doesn’t mean anything if his favorite parts are being kissed, being held down. Wrestling around, laughing. Hearing his boss say his name in that slightly annoyed tone. He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t repeat it over and over again in his head laying awake at night. He doesn’t think about it at all.

Everything seems to shift into focus when he’s up one night, sleepless, thinking too much, his boss a deadweight in the cot next to him. 

At least until Snake bolts upright, gasping. Sweat pours down his face, and he breathes heavy, looks out into the nothingness. Like he’s lost somewhere inside himself.

Kaz pretends to be asleep. Watches through his lashes as his boss gets up, slips out into the night.

This is new. Kaz can’t help but wonder if he just hadn’t been observant enough, or if Snake had just been better at hiding it. Whatever it is, if he just can’t deal with it alone anymore. If maybe he wants Kaz to notice.

There’s something on Snake’s mind, something with teeth and claws, something he can’t escape. Kaz has an idea or two, but every attempt to address it, to slide it into a conversation is stonewalled. He has no choice but to wait and hope.

Patience has never exactly been his strong point, though.

It happens nearly every night for a fortnight, Snake disappearing into the safety of darkness like clockwork, before Kaz can’t eat his curiosity anymore. He has to know.

As soon as the tent flap shuts, he’s out of bed, tripping into his pants, chasing after him. He’s never going to get the upper-hand on stealth with his boss, but he’s gotten better at tracking at Snake’s insistence. Can recognize the weight of his boot print, can pinpoint the length of his stride, his scent.

The men standing watch don’t seem to care as he disappears into the jungle. Or they just know better not to ask any questions when it comes to their boss and the second-in-command. They avert their gaze, but their shoulders pull back, standing tall. 

He hears running water as he moves further into the sway of trees, the path ahead lit only by starlight. The foliage isn’t thick enough to block out the sky, and the air smells sweet, and it’s strange and ethereal. Lonely. The breeze washes over his skin, seems to steer him in the right direction, until he comes up on the narrow stream, finds his boss seated at the grassy edge of the water, leaning back on his hands.

Almost like he’d been waiting there for Kaz to find him. He wouldn’t put it past him.

Still, he’s almost hesitant to approach, doesn’t want to disturb. Even if every cell in his body is itching to join him, as he stays hidden in the shadows behind the sweeping cover of leaves.

His boss meets his needs for him, as usual.

“I know you’re there, Kaz.”

He laughs, slips out of hiding. “Stupid to try and sneak up on you, huh.”

“If I didn’t want you to find me, you wouldn’t.”

There’s only a brief falter in his step. He’d been right after all. Kaz steps hesitantly on the loose ground, drops down beside his boss with a dramatic sigh. He has so many questions he wants to ask, but it’s never going to work to go at it directly. But fuck if he doesn’t want to know.

“It’s nice out here,” he says, instead, “Not a bad place to run off for some peace and quiet.”

Snake scoffs. “‘Peace’.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’d put us out of a job.” He looks down, reaches for his shades, is briefly surprised when he realizes he hadn’t even bothered to take them in his haste. He covers the move by swiping back his hair, clears his throat. “So…”

He doesn’t know how to follow it up. Instead, he just exhales, looks over to his boss. For some reason it seems to knock the air out of his lungs, devastate him. There’s something so… lost about the look on Snake’s face, and he can’t help but feel like maybe this is his chance, his in. 

Kaz moves closer. Slides towards him until their outer thighs are touching, their shoulders. He feels Snake bristle against him, then slowly start to relax, chin tipping forward as he eyes the river before them. 

“Snake,” Kaz begins, again, not really sure where he’s going with this. Prying, bringing up an assumed weakness, anything like that isn’t going to fly. He swallows, rubs a hand over his mouth. Starts. “Why do you like it out here?”

Snake’s lip curls, but he glances over, Kaz catching his eye. He waits for an answer, waits for something, some sort of insight into the inner workings of his mind.

“Nice fish in this river. Tasty.”

Kaz snorts. “Why am I not surprised.”

Snake vaguely grunts at him, and Kaz leans into him, jostles him with his shoulder. Playful, light. He’s pleasantly surprised when his boss looks down, nudges him back. Progress.

“No, but seriously… you got something on your mind?” He pauses. Tries not to sound too much like a goddamn girl. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Can I?” he asks, dryly.

“Dunno. I guess that’s a question of whether or not you trust me yet.”

“Can you really ever trust anyone?”

“I guess that’s a good question. You never really know what anyone’s thinking, their true motivations, you’re right.” He bites his lip. This play could make or break him, but it’s worth it if it’ll get him access to the most hidden parts of his boss, the dark center within him. “Despite knowing all of that-- I trust you.”

His brow furrows in confusion, and he meets Kaz’s eyes. He’s beautiful like this, consumed by nature, and Kaz can’t seem to look away, entranced.

“You do?”

“Well, I like to think I’m a better man now. You helped me… know who I really am. Without you, I wouldn’t have MSF.” Then, softer, “I wouldn’t have a real home. We’ve really got something good going here, and for the first time I really see a future for myself. For _us_.” He chuckles. “I couldn’t have done that without you.”

When he shuts his mouth again he realizes he may have been too honest, but hell, it feels good to actually have it out there. For Snake to know how he f-- what he thinks. How important MSF is to him, how important their dream is. What he can make of it with Snake beside him.

Kaz nudges him again, then looks away. His heart’s in his throat, he’d been too honest, too upfront about it. He almost can’t bring himself to regret it.

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

He’s silent for a long moment, as if considering. Finally, Snake shrugs, shakes his head. Leans forward onto his knees, Kaz trying to remain casual, trying to give him some space to breathe.

“You’re overthinking it, Kaz.”

The smile tips right off his face and Kaz can’t even cover it up. The sour expression wears deeper, and of course his boss would just pretend it was nothing, even though it was plain to see something had to be bothering him. He still couldn’t even just say something, anything was wrong? 

“Okay, well I’m pretty sure that’s bullshit,” he starts, before he can get his mouth under control. He huffs, tries again. “Hell, you’ve been waking up every night for weeks now looking like you were, I don’t know, _dying_ inside.” He frowns, looks away. “It can make a guy worry.”

“So don’t worry about it, then.”

The first spark of anger flares in his chest at being shut out again. Kaz starts to push.

“You’re just gonna act like it’s nothing? I should just ignore it then?”

“Yep.”

“No offense, but that’s fucking stupid and you know it. The men are bound to notice you acting like-- like _this_. They’ll start to question you, your ability to lead us.”

Snake glares back at him. “Is that what you’re doing? Questioning me?”

“That’s not--”

“Then what, Kaz?” His eyes narrow. “You _care_?” 

Kaz doesn’t have a response to that. 

He grits his teeth. Looks away. It’s so hard to gain any sort of upper hand with him. Frustration bubbles up inside, like his entire chest is being compressed, because no matter what he does he’s never going to gain any ground on this. He can’t keep cutting pieces of himself off, offering them up to this hungry, salivating wolf, can’t continue down that path without bleeding out entirely.

“Okay, fine. If after everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve done for you, you want to keep doing that whole ‘lone soldier’ thing, fine. Do whatever you want.”

Pushing up to his feet, Kaz makes a show of dusting off his pants, giving Snake an opportunity to say something, _anything_. When nothing comes, jaw clenching, he turns away, starts to walk back to camp. He can’t bring himself to leave, can’t help but feel like he’s been in this position before, once, a hundred times. 

“ _Fuck!_ ”

He’s breathing hard and heavy, whips around to find his boss isn’t even looking back at him.

“I just don’t _get_ you, Snake. You _always do this_ \-- push me away, act like nothing’s wrong. I know you’ve been fucked with, I get it, but you can’t always deal with everything by yourself, _okay_? Haven’t I proved my loyalty?”

Kaz shuts his mouth, whole body shaking. He hadn’t meant to say that, sincerely hopes that Snake doesn’t read into that, that Snake doesn’t realize just how much Kaz needs him. How much it hurts to be held at arm's length like this.

When Snake continues to ignore him, he stalks toward him without thinking, this anger burning up inside of him. His mouth gets away, starts, and he can’t stop it. “Just let me in, Snake. Don’t do this. We _fuck_ and-- I-- that has to count for _something_.”

It’s the closest they’ve come to actually talking about it. He hasn’t known how to bring it up, or if he’s allowed to bring it up, and with it out in the open there, what they’re _doing_ , what Snake might mean to him, it suddenly feels real. He’s been letting Snake fuck him, touch him, he’s been _asking_ for it all these months and he still doesn’t even know the man’s real first name.

Snake doesn’t even turn to look at him.

His hands shoot out before he can help it, and he grabs Snake by the shoulders, puts his weight into it and shoves him straight into the river.

There’s ice in his spine as he realizes just what he’s done. He hasn’t struck out directly like that since those first terrifying few months, and he knows there’s going to be hell to pay in a matter of seconds. Still, Snake putting him in his place doesn’t feel as bad as being ignored. It’s nothing he hasn’t endured before.

His boss is deathly calm as he rises to his feet, dripping with mud, hair in his face. As he raises his chin, his eye is visible, and Kaz takes a step back at the look he sees there, puts his hands up defensively.

“Snake, I didn’t--”

He goes deathly quiet when his boss just stares at him. 

“Did that make you feel better, Kaz?”

Something inside him just snaps. With a frustrated cry, Kaz launches himself at his boss, submerging them both. Snake twists around him, and they grapple each other for dominance, and he’s under water, trying desperately to hold his breath, trying to get a grip.

He manages to shove upwards, to his feet, get a hold on Snake’s shirt, water bursting up around them as he swings his fist out, catches his boss across the face. There’s no finesse, just pure rage, adrenaline, he just wants to hurt him, make him pay.

And for once, Snake seems taken off-guard, blocking his hits, never countering. Kaz throws himself into it, knocks them back onto the ground, half in the water. He scrambles to get on top, tries to pin him with his knees, before he’s rolled onto the mud, his boss a dark shadow above him.

He’s never going to come out on top, never going to win, and as Snake reaches for his throat he strikes, grabs him by the front of his shirt. 

Kaz pulls him down and kisses him hard, channels every bit of hurt into it. He’s desperate for a taste, opening his mouth, letting his tongue out against the seam of his lips, even if Snake is stone still above him.

He’s only allowed a moment before Snake pushes him down, strikes him hard across the face, once, twice, and he tastes blood. His vision darkens for a moment, but Kaz reaches up again, crushes his mouth to his. 

“Please don’t push me away,” Kaz begs against the tight line of Snake’s mouth. He gets another stinging slap for the words, and he flinches, Snake shoving him down with a big hand over his face.

He’s panting hard, cheek burning as he looks up at his boss, his teeth grit with intent. He reaches for him, grabs thick handfuls of Snake’s hair, holds him still. Meets his mouth again, and Snake doesn’t react, doesn’t make a move. Kaz lets this pathetic noise escape him, and Snake finally, _finally_ starts to kiss him back.

It’s chaste, shallow, and Kaz pulls himself up onto one elbow, cups Snake’s jaw in his other hand. Steers the kiss into something sweet and dirty, dips his tongue in, licks into his mouth. He closes his eyes, wants to live in this moment for the rest of his damn life, his boss giving him this. 

Snake sharply inhales, and Kaz instantly wants to hear more, arm curling around his neck, pulling him closer. Snake lowers his body down over his, and Kaz feels the weight of his hips, his chest, those big arms surrounding him. He can feel every ridge of muscle through the thin fabric of their shirts, every place their bodies are connected. This could be enough, if it was all he ever got.

His hand slides up Snake’s chest, trapped between them, and Snake doesn’t stop him, just makes this low, rough noise. It spurs Kaz on, his palms flat as he massages Snake’s pec, feels his nipple harden under the fabric. It’s strange to feel him actually respond, actually let him touch after all these months of being kept from it, but it’s the hottest he’s ever felt, his cock aching in his pants, just from kissing, like he’s a teenager all over again.

They pull away for air, Snake’s forehead resting on top of his, and Kaz looks up, catches his eye. There’s something wounded there, something he can’t resist, and he surges up, rolls them over so that he’s on top. He’s elated when Snake actually _lets_ him, butterflies in his stomach as he grazes the tip of his nose against Snake’s, lowers his mouth down for another kiss. His thigh slots between Snake’s legs, hot against him.

He feels Snake’s hand slide up the back of his neck, tense, but he doesn’t push him away. Pulls him closer, instead, and Kaz moans into his mouth, the kiss going sloppy as he grinds down against his boss, hands reaching for any bare skin he can touch. He just wants to crawl inside of him and stay there, know him that intimately.

“Snake,” he mumbles, mouth wet, sliding his tongue along Snake’s upper lip, “I--”

Snake’s hand slips down to the front of his throat, constricts around his trachea and he chokes. He’s pushed back, their lips connected by a thin strand of saliva that easily breaks, as he’s held by the neck over his boss. His hand coils around Snake’s wrist at his throat, the other planted by his head, and he winces, wants more. 

His vision starts to fade. He feels himself strain to breathe, starts to accept it just as the hand releases. It drops listlessly down to the ground, Snake looking up at him with something dark churning inside of him.

Kaz’s hands curl into the dirt, and he lowers his head down until their noses brush.

“Please...”

“Please _what_.”

He’s too far gone, shameless, so needy for his touch, his kiss. “Let me keep your secrets for you,” he says, breathless, “I promise I won’t let you down.” 

Kaz pulls back, then, searches Snake’s face for something, anything-- a hint of acceptance, need, he just wants so badly to be _needed_. That lone eye stares right through him, not really seeing him, the darkness down inside of him flowing out like a miasma. 

He takes a breath. Starts to pull back.

“Ten years…”

It’s like the earth crumbling beneath him. He feels the water beneath him, the dirt, the breeze on his face. Kaz licks his lips, tastes blood, looks into that clear blue eye and wants to understand.

“...Boss?”

Snake flinches like he's been shot.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone loves a cliffhanger.
> 
> One more chapter left. Thanks for reading.


	5. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual warnings apply. [Thanks for playing](http://highandholy.tumblr.com/post/144869461898/judas-kiss).

* * *

Kaz stares down at Snake for a long, unsettling moment. Sets his palms flat on the earth alongside his head, pushes back up to his knees. 

Ten years. It had to be… 

Snake reluctantly sits up. They’re still close-- practically on top of each other, Kaz kneeling between Snake’s spread legs, and he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to break this trance. Snake doesn’t speak, just looks away, and Kaz bites his lip to keep from asking too many questions. 

It takes only a few minutes before he can’t help it, Snake staring off into nothingness, and he blurts, “Tell me what it is. Snake-- I,” he stops, swallows thickly, “You said this to me once… that keeping it shut up in some dark place doesn’t make it hurt any less. You’d be damn stupid not to take your own advice.”

There’s a quick hint of a smile on his boss’ face, good, but it fades just as quickly. Kaz leans forward, gingerly sets his hands on Snake’s arms, slides them upward. He isn’t pushed back, keeps going until they settle on his shoulders. 

It’s only then that he gets a good look at Snake’s face, the dark expression there. It’s strange, all their previous interactions, he’d always felt the intensity of that stare, always felt eyes on the back of his head. There’s no focus there, no _presence_. Like he’s somewhere else entirely.

No, not somewhere. Some other time. Ten years ago.

“Is this about... her? Is this about The Boss?”

His face goes tight at her codename, and Kaz holds his breath, waits for it. Waits for him to turn away.

The tension in his shoulders lessens as Snake scoffs, looks down. “You really want to know, huh.” He pauses, shakes his head. “Stubborn.”

“Hey, come on. You know how I am-- can’t let anything go.” Kaz’s breath comes short, his lashes flutter. He leans closer. “Just tell me.”

Snake tips his chin up, leans back. Looks at the sky, visible for miles above the break in the treeline. He has all the nuance of a dying star in the night like this, belongs somewhere far above, collapsing in on himself, burning raw and bright. Kaz can feel his body heat with him so close, his boss’ legs framing his body, but he still seems so far away.

“I don’t really know where to start.”

Kaz tries not to seem too eager that he’s getting to see Snake like this, so off his game this way, iron grip softening. And he’s the only one likely to _ever_ see him in this light. God, he likes it way more than he wants to admit, drinks it in eagerly.

He moves to stand, reaches a hand down to his boss. “Well, we can start by getting out of the damn mud, at least.”

Snake’s gaze meets his, and the unguarded look on his face makes Kaz smile back, just a little too wide. “Right.”

Kaz pulls him sharply to his feet, and he doesn’t want to let go, hangs on as long as he can. Still, it’s not like they’re going to hold hands or anything, so he just stays close as they walk along the grassy riverbank, shoulder to shoulder, looking sidelong to Snake’s sharp profile. He’s bloodied, filthy, and it might be the most beautiful he’s ever looked to him.

“You said earlier… ‘ten years’. Since Operation Snake Eater, right?”

Snake vaguely grunts, looking forward.

“Has it been… bothering you?”

There’s a notable pause. Then, finally, Snake murmurs, “Can’t sleep lately.”

“Yeah, I noticed that much. Bad dreams?”

“Hn.”

“About her?” 

It’s strange, this sudden need to be better than her, more important than her that sears a brand in Kaz’s chest. Just the reverent way he talks about her, so hallowed from his lips, that woman who’d caused him to reject everything he’d ever known. Ruined him for anyone else.

“But, Snake-- she was a traitor.” 

He stops dead in his tracks. Closes his eye.

Kaz turns on his heel to face him. The world around them seems to quiet to a dull roar, water running, foliage in the breeze. The night air seems to fill him with this sense of inner stillness, even if his heart is trying to break through his ribcage.

“No. She was loyal.”

“Loyal...” Kaz’s mouth opens and closes, the gears turning in his head. “You mean she didn’t defect?”

“She finished her mission.”

“Wha-- are you saying it… it was a setup?”

Snake says nothing.

“Jesus Christ.” Everything starts to fall together for him then. Snake denouncing his homeland, the creation of MSF. The disconnection from other people, that troubled inward gaze. “Snake-- this-- Jesus _Christ_.”

There’s this part of him that’s getting excited, this greedy part that feels so privileged to be hearing this straight out of his mouth. How many people knew the truth? A handful, maybe, and here he was. The right hand of Big Boss, knowing something so hidden, so _personal_.

He can barely control the eagerness in his voice, clears his throat. “Snake--”

“I can’t stop thinking about how she was at the end.”

“At the end?”

“She wouldn’t let me come with her.”

Kaz steps closer, brows knitting in confusion, trying to unpack all this knowledge about this legendary woman who’d shaped his boss into the man he was. After all these years, he still thought about her. He thought about her all the time.

“Why didn’t she fight back? I still don’t understand.” 

Snake’s mouth goes tight, and he raises a hand to rub at his undamaged eye, the skin underneath shining in the starlight. It’s unnerving to see anything like tears from him, and Kaz can’t help but tense up, reach out for him as this strange need to comfort takes over. He just seems so lost. Like a child. But he can’t be infallible all the time, and Kaz wants to be his confidante. Wants so desperately to push _her_ out of his heart, make some room for himself among the thorns.

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in, his voice wavering at how vulnerable he feels, like trying to calm a vicious predator, “I’m sure she had her reasons. It was ten years ago, Snake. You’re never going to have all the answers.”

“I would’ve burned the world down for her if she asked.”

It feels so quiet all of a sudden, and all Kaz can do is stand there, eyes tracking every nuance on Snake’s face. He’s aware of distant water, of a world outside, somewhere, the ringing of his own ears, the ripples against his skull.

“You really loved her,” murmurs Kaz, “Didn’t you?” 

Again, Snake says nothing.

“But if she was truly loyal. If she didn’t defect-- then how could you kill her?”

His gaze snaps up, and he steps forward, sudden enough that Kaz recoils. “It was my _mission_.”

“Okay,” Kaz responds, raising his hands defensively. “Easy, I didn’t mean--”

“No, it’s…” His boss sighs, fists clenching at his side. Kaz holds stance for a moment longer, gradually softens. Waits. “She told me she’d given me everything she could. All there was left was for me to take her life. She gave me ten minutes to kill her.

“She looked at me. Raised her gun and said, ‘Let’s make this the greatest ten minutes of our lives’.”

He looks away.

“And it was. I've never felt more alive.”

Snake’s expression seems to soften after that, and Kaz stands there trying not to reach out, trying not to just pull him close. He fidgets a bit as Snake continues to exist somewhere far away from him, no idea what to say in the face of a revelation quite like that.

When he finally looks up, meets Kaz’s eyes, it’s like he’s been hollowed out. Kaz tries to speak, but Snake just breezes past him. Leaves him there.

He trips over himself in his haste to follow, jogging a bit to catch up to his boss’ long strides. He falls into step beside him again easily, even if he’s still trying to work through all this new knowledge, this understanding that shakes the foundation of everything they’ve been working towards. It occurs to him after a moment that Snake seems to know this terrain, seems to be leading him somewhere. Maybe just trying to get away from his thoughts.

The underbrush thickens around them, fragrant sweeps of flowering buds, thick vines, and Kaz hears the crash of running water, the path starting to incline underfoot. The stream widens out into a shimmering pool, water rushing from the cliff overhead, hitting the rocks in white bursts, a torrent as untamed as the man alongside him. 

“Pretty,” Kaz remarks, guilelessly, trying to defuse the tension, trying to crawl away from the conversation he’d started. Despite his better judgment. 

Snake steps up onto the craggy rock face at the base of the fall, water trickling under his boots, Kaz looking upward to trace his deceptively light step. “Water’s deeper than it looks.”

“Ah,” murmurs Kaz, gingerly following his boss up onto the rocks, feeling the mist of running water hit his face. “So, is that… is that why you wanted to start MSF? Because of what happened to her.”

The lack of response is an answer in itself.

“No nation, no ideology. Fighting only for ourselves. Makes sense.”

It was all for her. The business Kaz had put two years of his blood and sweat into, for _him_ , it was all for her. He bites his lip, stops short as he realizes Snake’s gone still before the cascade. It’s deafening, the pound of rapids on rock, the taste of fresh water on his tongue. Feels like the turmoil inside. 

“You know, I think I understand better than anyone, Snake. The way she was treated… like she wasn’t even a person. Even though she died for her country, if what you say is true.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “My mom sacrificed herself for her country too, and she got landed with me. The Japanese government barely considered me a human being, and her own people could barely look her in the eye anymore.”

His boot slips on the rock a bit, and he steadies himself, the fall of river water a constant beside him. Snake’s back is like a wall ahead, but he stops. Listens. Kaz draws in a sharp breath, looks forward, continues.

“How can you give yourself so deeply? Be so loyal, and still be seen as only a means to an end? That isn’t right.”

Kaz wants to reach out and touch, wants to be close to him. Needs to get through to him, for him to understand. 

“I think it was destiny that I met you. The world needs MSF. The world needs _you_. Everybody wants money, power, respect-- wants to be important. We’re the only ones honest enough to admit it. Your country threw you away when they didn’t need you anymore. Mine never wanted me in the first place. Fuck ‘em. Fuck _all of them_ , we could be something more than that.” He clenches a fist, eyes light, seeing only the prophetic vision of his boss before him. “Snake, we could change the world. Hell, we could _rule_ it.”

His boss looks over his shoulder at him, shakes his head. “That’s taking it a bit too far, Kaz, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, it’s _you_. A living legend. You’re the type of leader that could shape a new kind of future. A better one.”

That, at least, makes him crack a smile. “Now you’re just blowing smoke up my ass.”

The water beats down into the river, so close to his head, and Kaz can feel the roar of all that raw power, feeds off of it. His boss, as unstoppable as nature, a force, something pure and awful. 

“Am I? I wouldn’t be anything without you.”

Finally, Snake turns to face him, and they’re so close, close enough that Kaz can see the sheen of water on his skin, dripping from his beard. He gets lost in that crystal blue eye, illuminated by the water, can’t react when a hand snaps out and shoves him straight into the fall, everything instantly obscured by water.

He can still react quick enough that he reaches out, snags Snake’s shirt with his fingers, drags him in and under. They tumble into the pooled water, under the downpour, and Kaz clings onto him, raises his face above the break, hair dripping trails down his face.

“The hell was that for?”

“You needed it.” Snake regards him severely, utterly soaked, barely audible over the rush of water. “Stop selling yourself short. MSF needs you. You need to be stronger than that.”

“You couldn’t just… tell me I’m doing a good job, or something?”

“I could, sure.” He smirks, this boyish thing that cracks the iron wall of his face, makes Kaz breathless. “Thought this would be more effective.”

Kaz shoves him straight into the torrent, Snake’s hands snapping out to grab his shirt, taking him under. Kaz gets a mouthful of water for his efforts, reaches for Snake, gets fistfulls of hair, drags him in close. Crushes their mouths together, feels Snake resist, but he pushes into it, rocks his body against his in the water, drowns with him.

“Snake, you’re the kind of man who could lead this world into a new era,” he says when they part, over the deafening pound of the fall, lashes beaded with heavy drops of moisture, eyes finding Snake’s lone, hooded eye in the blue haze, “With me by your side, we’ll be unstoppable. I won’t let you down.”

Snake steals his mouth in a kiss. He isn’t sure whether it’s because he wants to, or if it’s just to shut him up. 

He doesn’t care. He’ll take anything he can get.

* * *

“Hit me.”

The dealer slides another card his way, drinks sweating condensation on the table, the betting pool stacked high with cash, jewelry, weapons. There’s a girl hanging over his shoulder and he can smell her sweat, the sweet scent of her hair, his boss a thick cloud of cigar smoke somewhere on the other side of the crowded room.

The game moves fast, the men around the table making their plays, trying to hide their expressions in the dingy overhead light of the back room. Women hang around to watch, share cigarettes, pour drinks. What had started as a business meeting with some slightly shady weapons dealers had led to a bar, to drinks, a wager, led to Kaz with the bulk of the pot, half-drunk and ecstatic, showing off. Led to Kaz insisting that a break was good for them, led to Snake following along with only a slightly begrudging grimace.

When he wins again, it’s no surprise to him, raking in the cash, taking in the suspicious looks of the men around the table, the murmurs. “Now, now. Sometimes the cards play in your favor, sometimes they don’t. You know how it is.”

Possibly because he’d been counting them. It wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t keep up.

Eyes hidden behind the lens of his shades, Kaz taps the cards against the table. The woman next to him leans in, sets another beer down beside him, slides a hand over his shoulder. “For you.” He looks over, curls an arm around her waist, pulls her in against his side as the dealer shuffles the deck, keeps things moving.

“ _Cómo estás_?” he asks, as she dips in closer, can feel her hot breath against his neck. 

He scans the other side of the table, beyond that, where Snake is carefully watching as usual. It’s different, now, the leash has loosened, he knows to toe the line. Flirting, acceptable, and his boss likes to watch him show off, likes to watch him preen like some golden peacock. He wants to make him proud.

“You are very good,” she says, low enough that it’s just for him, her fingers sliding onto the edge of the table. “I don’t know how to play cards. Can you teach me?”

“Well that’s the trick, _hermosa_ ,” he says, looking far past her for that face, that dark eye, “You don’t play the cards, you play your opponents.”

She looks sidelong at him, full lips tasting a smile, produces a slightly flattened carton of cigarettes tucked into her bra. She offers him one which he accepts with his mouth, lets her light it, watches his boss far across the table while she’s hot against him.

Snake’s profile is hard in the low light, angular, and it’s fascinating to watch him in a crowd. Like he doesn’t see anyone, guard up, watching for threats in every corner. He seems uncomfortable, even, moves out of every casual touch, a drunken shoulder clap, a girl trying to chat him up. Stone faced and ready for anything, so long as it doesn’t want to make small talk to him. He’s feigning normalcy, wearing ill-fitting human skin, civilian clothes that don’t suit a man that wild.

This world wasn’t meant for him, truly, but it’s intoxicating to drag him into it, see him adapt. Kaz takes a drag on the cigarette, leans back, blows the smoke away. Plays his hand, watches the round, leans in close to her ear, eyes drawn to the other side of the room.

“Look at their faces. The way they look at the hand they’ve been dealt.” He cocks an eyebrow, tips his chin in gesture. “The guy in the white shirt over there, he always touches his lower lip when he has something good. There, with the tattoos, breathes really hard when he’s bluffing.” He leans back, eyes pinpointing to that dark figure across the room. “Sooner or later, everyone has a tell.”

“And what’s your ‘tell’?” she asks, plucking the cigarette from the corner of his mouth, wrapping her lips around it delicately.

Kaz tilts his head, looks down at his hand. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

He decides to fold, wouldn’t be smart to win every round. The next, white shirt keeps raising, and when Kaz grandiosely makes the decision to go all in, there’s a definite air of tension around the table. With a good hand, he takes the whole pot, eyes on a nice looking knife for his boss. 

White shirt’s mouth tips down into a frown, a meaty fist slamming down on the table.

“You’re cheating!” His fingers inch towards his belt holster. “What did that bitch say to you?”

She bristles in his hold, bites her tongue.

“Hey, now, that’s not very nice. You should apologize to the lady.”

“Oh _should_ I?” 

His boss’ shadow darkens the table, tall in the dim overhanging light. “He’s right. You should,” Snake murmurs. Cigar smoke curls up in plumes, and he pulls it from his mouth with his forefinger and thumb, looks down to where the man’s hand is poised over the gun. “Might not want to do that. Unless you’re better at aiming than you are at cards.”

The small crowd shifts uneasily around the table, nervous laughter, some scattered mumbling. Kaz inhales tightly through his nose, sweat slicking his hair to the back of his neck.

“That’s-- bullshit! You were cheating,” says the man, spit frothing off his lip, onto the table. Kaz starts to tense up, keeps his face steady. “Admit it!”

“Hey now, I’m an honest kind of guy,” he lies, “Besides, he’s right-- cards aren’t really your thing. I don’t need to cheat against you.”

White shirt clenches his teeth, goes tense, rises to his feet.

The dealer reaches for the cards, starts to shuffle. His eyes dart uneasily from person to person, the newcomers to the table, he offers an unsteady smile, says, “Sit back down, it was a mere misunderstanding. It’s a game-- not worth anyone dying over.”

The irony isn’t lost on Kaz, sitting in a room full of arms dealers, criminals, and mercs clustered around the place. He cracks a smile, looks over at his boss, then to the woman, her face drawn tight in a frown. The cigarette between her shaking fingers burns down to the filter, forgotten.

“You still owe her an apology,” says Kaz, feeling cocksure in this heat, this pressure. He can see Snake evaluating the room, all entries and exits, every potential enemy, every weapon in the room. 

The man’s lip curls back and he turns, defeated, straight into Snake, that impenetrable barrier, that terrible stare. He locks up as Snake stares him down, teeth grit, sweat beading on his forehead. 

“Don’t you have something to say?” Snake asks.

He seems to turn back to the lady, opens his mouth, before he reels back and takes a swing straight at Snake’s head. He catches the first, twists in it his grip. Sighs. 

With a snap of the wrist, a rush of shoulder, he flings the man onto the ground. The table implodes in on itself into a flurry of cards, cash, everyone leaping at the chance of a fight, the tension boiling over, infectious. 

The woman shrieks, steps back as Kaz scrambles across to join the fray, get his hands on skin, get his knuckles into something. He’s never felt more alive than when he’s side by side with his boss, having his back.

He’s bleeding in at least three places, knocked out at least two guys when the _policía_ start to flood into the building. Snake drags him by the collar out the back way, shoulder hitting the door as they rush out into the alley. He takes a sharp left, Kaz tripping over himself to keep up, and it’s like sparks inside of him, his heart in his throat as he races after his boss under the street lights, under the great boughs of the balconies overhead.

Kaz finally collapses against a wall when they’ve put enough distance behind them, laughs, hand curled into Snake’s shirt for support. “Jesus Christ, Boss, seems like every time I go somewhere with you I end up with a gun in my face or someone trying to kick my ass.”

“Did you ever think that maybe if you didn’t antagonize them so much you wouldn’t have so many people trying to kill you?” Snake asks, dryly, nudging him away.

Kaz scoffs dramatically, stands upright, adjusts his shades. “Well he deserved it. My integrity was at stake!”

“But were you really cheating, Kaz?”

“Hey, that depends on whether or not you think I was cheating.”

Snake’s eyebrow twitches tellingly. He doesn’t respond. It wouldn’t be terribly surprising if the poor bastard didn’t even know how to play cards at all. Still, Kaz grins, swings an arm around his shoulders as he steers them out of the alley towards the outskirts of the city.

The stone underfoot softens to boardwalk, palm trees swaying ahead in the breeze of the early hours of morning. The sound of the city seems further away, far enough that Kaz becomes hyper aware of how much he’s hanging on, how much he’s touching his boss. 

He shifts, arm dropping away, then rounds to the front. Walks backwards ahead of him, wants to hold eye contact, wants to look at him. 

Snake frowns, but keeps walking, Kaz sneaking glances over his own shoulder to stay on track. “What?”

“‘What’ what?” 

“You… trying to show off or something?” he asks, bluntly, and Kaz’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, step faltering for a moment.

“Nah, I just like watching your face while you’re still trying to figure out if I was playing dirty or not.”

His brows furrow. “So what did that girl say to you, then?”

Interesting. The slight edge to his tone, the intensity of his stare. “Come on, Boss. You’ve seen me pick up chicks before.” Rather, he’d _told_ him to, watched from the safety of shadows. “What do you _think_ we talked about?”

He grunts, displeased. “Do you have to answer every question with another question?”

“Do I?” 

“ _Kaz_.”

“Hey, I only learned from the best,” he bites back, “Gotta keep my hand close to the chest. I don’t want to let you come out on top _all_ of the time.”

A smile cracks Snake’s face, like the red sea being split. “You’re so full of shit.” He jots forward, shoves his thick fingers into Kaz’s ribs, sending him jerking away with a sharp bark of laughter.

“Whoa-- cut it out! Come on, hey!”

Another jab, and he slaps the hands away, pushes back and they tangle a bit. A moment too short, just enough for his skin to tingle before they separate, laughing. His boss is so hot under all the layers of fabric, and Kaz just wants to shove him down into the sand, lay over him. Feel him out.

Kaz puts his hands into his pockets, tries to control himself, as they stop up against a slapdash wooden guard rail, the end of the boardwalk. The ocean laps at the shore in the near distance, the smell of salt and moonlight, the rest of the world fleeting as a memory.

“But you’re right,” Snake murmurs, settling his thick forearms onto the rail, leaning into it. “I _have_ seen you pick up girls. You can do better than that.”

“Wasn’t really trying. Come on, you think I’m gonna miss out on an opportunity to drag you into civilization and watch you try to blend with the locals? Not on your life, pal.”

“Interesting. Usually you’d pick the women.”

Kaz shrugs, props his back up against the rail, close enough that their arms touch. “Hey, everyone likes getting laid.”

“You seem to have a higher track record than most. There a reason for that?”

“I’m a man. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Just don’t get it. Letting that many people, _strangers_ , make you that--”

“Vulnerable?”

Their gazes lock for a time, before Kaz has to rip himself away. Too close.

“Ah. Well I guess that’s part of the appeal. They’re strangers, I won’t have to ever see ‘em again.” He smiles down at the ground, crosses his arms over his chest, hyper-aware of every movement, every place they touch. “So I can be whoever I want to be.”

“So who are you then, Kaz. Really.”

He tips his chin away, tries to keep his voice steady. “Well that’s a pretty loaded question.” Looks back at his boss, pastes on that cocky grin. “I guess I can be whoever _you_ want me to be.”

“That so?”

“Maybe.”

“What if I want to see the real you?”

“What if there is no ‘real’ me?”

His boss chuckles, turns in on him, caging him against the rail, hands on either side of his body. Kaz goes stiff, looks away, until Snake reaches for his chin, corrects him until their eyes meet.

“What am I gonna do with you Kaz?” He reaches for the shades, and Kaz goes still as they’re removed, tossed to the sand. He leans in closer and then, lower, more intimate, murmurs, “What are you gonna _let_ me do to you?”

“I don’t know,” Kaz answers, breathlessly, his eyes darting to Snake’s mouth. “Does it make it easier on you if I just ask for it?”

“Does it make it easier on _you_?”

His eyes flick downward, and he licks his lips. It would be so easy to close that gap. “You first.”

Kaz can’t help but burst out into laughter at the flat, annoyed expression he receives in response. His mouth opens to shout as Snake bolts forward, and he slides out from under his arm in flight. “Hey, no, don’t, _Snake!_ ” 

He’s knocked to his ass in one firm shove, elbows hitting the sand as he tries to reign in the smile on his face, the breath knocked out of his chest as Snake crashes down on top of him. He puts his hands up defensively, but Snake seems content to just jab him hard and fast in the sides, and he can’t breathe, eyes watering he’s laughing so hard, trying to catch his breath.

“Ah-- fuck, come on, stop it!” 

He finally manages to get a hand up to Snake’s neck, his face, trying to push him away by a grip on the chin. They scrabble at each other like children for a moment until his palm slips, thrusts hard against Snake’s nose, resulting in the hot rush of blood over his fingers, a grunt from the man on top of him.

Snake tips back, finally leaving Kaz’s sides free of the onslaught, and wipes a knuckle through the blood. His hand plants down in the sand beside his head, staining the fine granules red, changing them with his touch. 

“You’re a real piece of work, Kaz.”

“You made me this way.”

A wry smile pulls at his face, the blood dripping down, reddening his teeth. “So it’s my fault?”

“Yeah,” Kaz says, reaching forward to loop his fingers into the front of Snake’s shirt, pull him closer. “And you should take responsibility.”

“Is that what you want me to do? Take responsibility for you, Kaz?”

“Take whatever you want from me,” he says, breathless. 

“But you’re not gonna make it easy for me, are you?”

“Never.” 

It’s so blatant, so outright, he can’t even bring himself to feel ashamed, this raw connection between them so overwhelming. His eyes trace Snake’s face, his mouth, and he slides a hand up his neck, over his jaw. Snake freezes above him, goes completely still, but his fingers just brush back the hair at his temples, push it off his face. Just to look at him. 

Kaz bites his lip, decides to be bold. “You wanna go somewhere?”

“Go where?”

“Somewhere we can be alone.”

Snake’s eye flicks up, does a quick scan. He looks back down, brow knit in confusion. “We are alone.”

“Really?” He lowers his hand, hides his face with his palm. Smiles. “Do I... really have to spell it out for you?”

“Oh.” Snake’s mouth goes flat, and he backs up off of him abruptly fast. “Yeah.” 

He extends a hand, almost as an afterthought. Kaz reaches for it, lets himself be pulled up off the ground, back to his feet. He holds on a little too long, and his boss almost rips away from him, puts distance there. Seems strangely nervous. 

And he had reason. Asking to go get a room together, it’s different than two guys just blowing off steam in a shared tent, fucking around after a fight. This is intentional. Running off somewhere, together.

Snake doesn’t take to affection, doesn’t understand the nuances of flirting, he can’t play this like normal. It’s out of his boss’ area of expertise, doesn’t come natural to him like everything else seems to. The one place Kaz has a hand up on him.

So he shoves Snake by the shoulder, keeps it brusque, then bends at the waist to unearth his sunglasses from the sand. 

“Look, I’ll go get us a room,” he says, sliding the shades over his nose, feeling assured with his eyes hidden from view. “Let me take care of everything. You just have to show up.” It wasn’t like they could just go together, after all, and he knows Snake well enough to know he’d need the space to breathe. Needed to be lured in with a promise, like a nervous predator. 

Snake grunts, wiping the dried blood from his nose. He turns away.

“I take that as a yes? I’ll see you soon. Don’t keep me waiting.”

God, he wants to kiss him, wants to stay close. Still, he spins on his heel, heads back in the direction of the city, a place already in mind. He knows his boss will stay close enough in the shadows, and hell if he doesn’t need the time to collect himself, anyhow.

The streets are sleepy, the only denizens working girls hanging around their corners, drunks spilling out of bars, militiamen smoking cigarettes, sharing stories. Kaz mostly keeps his head down, smiles at the ladies, mind working away at what he wants to do, what he wants _done_ to him. Infinite possibilities with a bigger bed, more time to work with.

The motel he picks is three stories, the building sand white, and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t pick a slightly nicer one than his usual haunts. So maybe it was a little more romantic. It didn’t have to mean anything. 

Kaz pays the attendant, tries not to think too much about the shake in his hands as he shuffles bills. He takes the stairs two at a time as he vaults up to the second floor.

He’s too eager rounding to the landing, slams into an older man in an expensive suit, heading downstairs. He reaches a hand out to steady him before he careens down, and the fabric feels good against his fingertips. He could wear the hell out of a suit like that. 

“ _Perdón_ ,” he says, in his most put-upon, eager voice, “Didn’t see you there.”

The man looks at him, really looks for a moment. Kaz almost freezes, like he’s been found out. Like this person knows exactly what he’s there for. Like he knows too much.

“Don’t worry about it, my friend,” replies the man, gaze lingering, patting him on the chest. “Enjoy your night.”

“Ah… yeah. Thanks.” He lets go of the man’s hand, tears his eyes away as they part.

He breezes onto the top floor, enters the room, the man already forgotten. He slams the door a little too hard, already shrugging out of his sweaty overshirt, beelining for the tiny box of a bathroom.

He’s never really had any time to prepare for their interactions before this point. Always just had to pray to whatever deity there was, watch his eating, and hope that Snake was in a good enough mood not to debase him too thoroughly. He’s got packets of lube in every pair of pants he owns these days, condoms, even if his boss opts not to use them. Most of the time anyway. He’s gotten used to the sensation of cum leaking out of him while he’s going over expense reports, anyhow.

Shades off, he catches himself in the mirror, feels younger than he is. His eyes seem too eager, always betraying him, and he tries to school his expression into something more cool, more collected. It mostly doesn’t work, and he’s not really sure he cares anymore. Always too honest this way. His boss has already seen him, anyhow.

His dick is already hard in his briefs, eager as he shoves them down over his thighs. Standing there in the yellow light, he slides a hand over his chest, feels his muscles, the peaks of his nipples under his palms. Snake would be blind, or an idiot, not to want him like this. God, he wants Snake to want this. Wants him to feel alive.

He spends some time cleaning his ass out, face heated the entire while, the white noise of the tap running in short bursts as loud as thunder in his ears. It’s easy enough, then, to use the lube he’d brought to work himself open, first just one finger, then two. It feels good. He just wants to make it easier for himself, wants to surprise his boss with how good for it he is. 

Kaz washes his hands once he’s done, splashes water onto his face to try to cool himself down. He pulls his briefs back on, even if his cock doesn’t quite fit into them, hard as it is. He’s starting to feel too keyed up, too ready for this, wonders if his boss will judge him for getting himself wet, loose, too hungry for his dick to be inside of him. Maybe he’ll actually get to see him come this time, and hell if that doesn’t make his cock twitch, precum darkening the front of his underwear.

He rubs a hand over his face, takes a breath. Turns back to the bathroom door, opens it. As he steps back into the main room, he almost jumps at the dark figure he finds, realizes his boss has been sitting there on the end of the bed, waiting for him. The open window remains the only evidence of his arrival.

“Jesus Christ, Snake. What did you do, scale the side of the building to get in here?” 

“Yeah.”

Kaz laughs. Chokes it back.

Snake’s brow furrows. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s-- it’s nothing.”

He’s suddenly so self-aware, standing there almost naked save for his briefs, dick hard, his boss fully clothed. Snake’s legs are spread wide, and it only takes Kaz a matter of seconds to pad over to him, barefoot, crawl onto his lap.

It’s so forward, so daring of him to take charge like this, as he’s usually forcibly put back in his place. Instead, Snake leans back as Kaz settles his ass down onto his firm thighs, straddling him, and he draws in a sharp breath with just how appallingly easy it’d been to get on top. 

“Hey,” Kaz murmurs, suddenly feeling strange, too deliberate, aware of the swell of his boss’ cock pressing against his ass. The few barriers of fabric between them, how damn close he is. 

He braces himself on Snake’s shoulders, his boss’ hands coming to settle just above his hips. It’s possessive, and yet holds him at a safe distance. He’s still not close enough. For some reason that just ignites him, makes Kaz grind down just a little more.

“Kaz.” It’s growled out, so full of promise that Kaz almost laughs, even if he has to bite his lip as Snake’s eye wanders down to his mouth, his grip tightening at his waist. 

His boss won’t make the first move. Still, he isn’t pushing him away, isn’t gathering his wrists to keep him from touching him. Not like usual, not controlling his every action. Like something’s changed between them, made this something else entirely. Made this something more honest.

It’s so normal. Too normal. 

Kaz can’t take the tension any more, and when he slowly moves in for a kiss, Snake doesn’t stop him.

His mouth tastes like death, his beard too rough, but Kaz lets his eyes close, just throws himself into it. He opens his mouth and lets Snake’s tongue in, and it’s clumsy, forceful. He tampers it down into something more skilled, steers it, his hand sliding up to cup his jaw, tease the long ends of the hair at the back of his neck.

When Snake actually releases a low, rough noise into his mouth, Kaz groans, pulls him closer until their chests touch. His hands move of their own volition to start to undo Snake’s overshirt, pulling at buttons until it gets frantic, his fingers twitching to get him out of his clothes. They don’t stop kissing as he helps Snake wrestle out of the shirt, and it hits the ground with a slap of fabric, and he’s aching to touch bare flesh.

His skin is so hot, sweaty under the slide of his palms, Kaz gripping his shoulders, the swell of his tricep. Snake’s fingers flex at his sides, and he makes another one of those curious noises, Kaz eating it out of his mouth, swallowing it up for himself. 

“Boss,” he mumbles, hands scrabbling at Snake’s hair, pushing his cock against his body just for some friction. “I wanna suck your cock.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His face burns, but Snake’s hips buck up under him, and he can’t help but grin against his mouth at getting the reaction he wanted. God, he’s finally in control, finally getting exactly what he’s wanted for months now. Snake at his mercy, needing this as much as he does.

When he backs away, lips wet, just to look, his boss seems disheveled, seems less assured than usual. Kaz moans, can’t hold back at that lost look on his face, hand settling on the center of his chest to push him down onto the bed. Snake lowers to his back with a bit of resistance, looks up at him with something naked in his eye that might be hesitation. A fear of letting go, completely.

“Relax,” murmurs Kaz, setting a hand beside his head, leaning over him. “Let me take care of you.” He reaches down between them, his hand sliding down the rucked up undershirt, touching the bare skin of his lower stomach, the hair there leading downward. He starts to undo his pants, but a hand comes to clamp over his wrist, stops him. He almost whines in disappointment, looks back to his face. “ _Boss_.”

“I’ll do it.”

Kaz frowns, moves off of him as Snake peels out of his undershirt, starts to work on the zip of his pants. He doesn’t look at him the entire time, like he’s trying to hold on to some semblance of being in charge of the situation, even if Kaz helps him drag the fatigues down over his legs as he lifts his hips, gets him out of his boots. His dick is hard in those tight boxer briefs, and Kaz’s mouth waters as those too are removed, cock resting high and hard against his lower stomach. 

Snake leans back on his elbows, looks at him expectantly. “Well?”

It’s a challenge if he’s ever heard one, and Kaz grits his teeth. He slinks forward, back on top of him, because hell if he’s going to let Snake call all the shots now. This is his night to come out on top, and he’s going to get what he _wants_. He’s going to take all he can get.

And when he moves to kiss his boss again, he isn’t held back. He gasps into it, as Snake pushes forward, pushes too hard, there’s no finesse, and Kaz laughs a little, nips at his lower lip.

“What?” Snake mumbles, hand skimming down Kaz’s flank, before stopping dead, landing back on the bed.

“You’re kinda... aggressive. Relax.”

He grunts in response. Kaz can’t help but laugh, kiss the side of his mouth, moving down his jaw, his neck. 

A broad hand comes to cup the back of his head, grip his hair. Lifts his head, pulls him back so their eyes meet. Kaz winces. “Snake, come on. Can’t you just enjoy it?” 

He scowls. “Can’t _you_ just get on with it?”

“If only girls were half as impatient as you are.”

“ _Kaz_.”

“Okay, okay. Move up a little.”

Snake anchors his feet into the bed, moves up, Kaz coming to lay on his belly between his thighs. He nuzzles his face into the wiry hair above his cock, takes a deep inhale of the musky scent there, his heart fluttering at how badly he wants this. Every time he’s had his mouth on his boss’ dick he’s been on his knees, just taking it-- it’s different to be the one controlling this. This way he can actually see Snake’s face, and for some reason, that’s the best part of it.

He presses a hand cautiously into Snake’s inner thigh, spreads his legs wider, makes some room for himself. Snake’s hand slides down the muscular planes of his abdomen, grips the base of his dick, touches the tip against Kaz’s lower lip. “Stop messing around.”

Rolling his eyes, Kaz opens his mouth, lets his tongue out to swipe the reddened head of his cock. His hand takes over at the base of his cock, gripping tight, moving up on his elbows to take the head into his mouth. It tastes strong, salty, but he’s used to his boss now, enjoys it, eyes narrowing as he hollows his cheeks, sucking.

His free hand slips lower, cupping his balls, rolling them in his palm. Snake’s legs spread more of their own volition, his hips rocking up into his mouth. Kaz makes a pleased sound, bobs his head, taking more of the length between his lips. 

When Snake’s hand comes down to settle on the back of his head, he’s not entirely surprised. Still, he doesn’t put any pressure on him yet, doesn’t demand to fuck his mouth like usual. Lets him go at his own pace, lets him swirl his tongue around the slit, tease it with the tip. Taste the fluid there, hand working the base of his cock in rhythm with his mouth.

And when he looks up, the blissed out expression on Snake’s face is what spurs him onward, makes him want it even more. The idea of doing that to him, of Snake letting him see him like that, guard lowered, just makes him work his jaw harder, take more of the thick length of his cock into his mouth, gagging on it. 

He keeps at it until his boss is fucking up into his mouth with each dip of his head, hands clenched in his hair. Snake still isn’t making any noise, nothing more than that tightly controlled breathing, but his mouth is open, his eye closed, and Kaz can’t help but watch, can’t help but want to see more from him. Wants to see him the way nobody else has. 

His tongue teases the slick ridge of the glans, and he sucks hard over the head, squeezes his balls. HIs jaw’s getting sore, but it doesn’t matter, and he swallows, breathes in sharp before his boss pushes his head down, forces him to take him deeper into his throat. 

He chokes around the cock in his mouth, feels his eyes start to water, but it doesn’t matter because of the low hum his boss releases. God, he wants to hear him, wants to see him, can’t as his nose brushes up against his pubic hair. He tenses, throat contracting around the intrusion, before Snake releases him, and he backs off, works his hand over the thick saliva left in his wake. 

Kaz moves lower, licks the base of his cock, shoves his face into the thatch of hair and breathes deep. He’s so masculine, so heady down here, and Kaz pulls one of his balls into his mouth and sucks hard, one hand still working his cock, the other dipping below his sac, thumb daring to press against his perineum. 

“Kaz.” 

It’s a warning, if anything, but he’s never been good at listening to those. He releases the testicle in his mouth, moves them aside with the back of his hand, tongue teasing lower, dipping into the tight circle of his hole. Only for a second, just a taste, before his boss yanks him back up by the hair, slaps him hard against the face. So hard his head spins for a second.

Kaz fucking moans for it. God, maybe he’d just done it because he craves the punishment. This is what his boss turned him into. Who is he really anymore?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He can’t care when Snake is dragging him back up his body, lets him stop to nuzzle his face against his belly, the hair at his chest. Kaz breathes deep, drags his mouth and nose up his pec, to under his arm, just breathing the heavy scent of his sweat. He slides his tongue out, and Snake grunts, lets him shove his whole face in there and just mouth at the hair there, just taste. 

Snake pulls him back up for a kiss, coils around him, crushes the air out of him. Kaz moans into it, closes his eyes.

There’s a hand gripping his ass, and he pushes back into it. He feels Snake’s fingers slip under the briefs, another coming to cup his other cheek, spread him apart. His hole clenches reflexively, and he holds his breath as a finger presses against him, sinks in just a bit.

Snake makes this curious noise, pulls back to look him in the eyes. “You’re wet.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you… get yourself ready for me?”

“Maybe.”

Something washes over his boss’ face at that, and Kaz chokes, _yes_ , that’s the reaction he’s been waiting for. He rocks back into his touch, and that exploratory finger pushes into him, and he tightens around it, aches for it. “Fuck, Snake--”

Snake gets up onto his elbows, forcing Kaz to sit back. His fingers slip out, and he smacks his ass once, grinning. “Get these off. Now.”

They tangle for a moment as he gets the offending briefs off, just so his boss can get his fingers back into him. He’s so hot, so eager for it, takes one finger, two, near effortlessly, still wet from the lube earlier. He’s fucking back easily onto Snake’s hands, watching his face, unable to stop staring at him, fuck, will he really let him look at him while they’re fucking? All he wants is to see him come, pull those noises out of him. See the look in his eyes as he lets himself go.

Kaz spits into his palm, then reaches downward, fingers curling around Snake’s cock, giving it a few firm strokes. He’s so ready for it, sucks his teeth as Snake eases his fingers out, hands coming to grip his ass, hold him open. He starts to push him off, but Kaz resists, holds steady with his thighs as he aligns the head of his cock with his hole.

“I’m gonna ride you, Boss,” he says, smirking, free hand flattening between Snake’s pecs, nails digging in. “You’re gonna lay there and let me.”

“Oh, am I?”

He clamps his legs around Snake’s hips, starts to bear down, feels the pressure at his hole. His mouth opens a little and he exhales, wincing as the head pushes past the initial resistance. It hurts, there’s not enough lube but still, it’s worth it just to see Snake grit his teeth as he takes more of him inside, his body adjusting to the penetration, muscles contracting wildly.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut-- ah-- _shut up_ already.” 

His boss chuckles, plants his feet into the bed and thrusts up into him. He’s mostly able to ignore the sudden cracking of his voice.

Kaz’s thighs shake as he pulls back, but he uses more saliva, takes even more of the length. It’s a bit of a process getting that cock into him, trying to hold his boss down at the same time, but Snake’s hands grip his hips, his ass, take over, pulling him down the last few inches. He keens high in his throat, both hands shooting to Snake’s chest, trying to hold himself away. 

He’s panting by the time he finally takes the last of it, everything feels so fucking big and tight, overwhelming. He’s at least in charge like this, leans forward to plant his hand on Snake’s chest, starts to move.

Snake slides a hand under his own head, leans back. He looks down, pupil blown, where they’re joined. Lets him work. Hell if Kaz isn’t going to give him an impressive performance. 

It still hurts, even if it’s starting to get easier every time. Kaz fucks himself unhurriedly on his boss’ cock, lower lip sucked into his mouth. He sits back, curls his hand around his own cock, his thighs straining with the effort. He’s hyper-aware of everywhere Snake is looking at him, puts his hips into it, toes curled, riding his cock with a barely measured level of control. It’s so tempting just to give into every urge, every raw temptation in the pit of his belly, but he’s not going to let his boss get the better of him again. Not now.

Kaz shifts, lets his hand drop to massage Snake’s pec, pressing hard into the firm swell of muscle. “Feel good?” He wants to kiss him, their faces close, but he doesn’t want to seem too desperate. He holds himself back at a safe distance, feels the sweat start at his upper lip.

“You tell me.”

The flippant answer makes Kaz want to scoff, want to pull away, but he can’t with both of Snake’s hands coming to wrap over his back, crushing him in tight against his massive chest. Snake digs in his heels, traps him in the cage of his arms and fucks up into him hard and fast, Kaz clenching his eyes shut, a punched out breath leaving him with every brutal thrust.

He struggles, tries to twist away, but his boss’ grip is unerring, and fuck, it feels good, his hole stretching around the girth of that dick with every push inward. His cock hits the spot inside that makes his vision white out, and he moans recklessly into Snake’s ear, bucking hard against him, fighting back as much as he can. 

He’s sweat-slippery, slick, manages to get out from under one arm, jab an elbow into Snake’s side. He grunts, and Kaz laughs in victory, twists away from his hold. Like a game. Snake gains on him, tackles him back to the bed, his head hanging listlessly off the edge.

Snake pulls his legs apart, grips his calves as he twists onto his side, and hell if there isn’t a smile on his face, if he isn’t enjoying this game as much as Kaz is. Chasing after each other like horny teenagers, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist outside of this. It makes his stomach twist, looking up at his boss’ face, waiting for him to come inside again. Always waiting for him.

He groans as his leg is pushed up, Snake’s cock sliding back inside of him as his thighs are maneuvered. His boss straddles one of his legs to keep him in place, holding the other tight to his chest, holding him open.

“You just had to make this difficult,” Snake breathes, hand swiping up to wipe the sweat from his brow, just as quickly gripping Kaz’s arm to hold it tight to his back. Kaz twists his wrist, but it’s no use, and he doesn’t want to get away, anyway.

He’s at least got one arm free to wrap around his cock, and the angle is _so good_ , Snake fucking him slow and hard, dragging him back only when he’s halfway off the bed, onto the floor. He picks up the speed, the intensity until they’re just dripping, slippery, unable to keep a grip on one another.

It doesn’t matter, Kaz choking on his breaths, trying desperately to hang on, to not be the first one to lose himself. He just wants to see his face, wants to see him fall apart. Doesn’t get the opportunity as a big hand cracks against his cheek, once, twice, then holds him down, his nose and mouth crushed into a sweaty palm. “Snake--”

The other hand pulls his own away from his cock, holds it to the bed with the other, leaves him hanging on edge. He can’t do anything other than lay there and take his boss’ punishing thrusts, his ass starting to ache, until finally, Snake starts to slow down, ease up on him. He just pushes in deep and stays there, and Kaz listens for any sound. Nothing more than a slight hitch in his breathing, before he’s easing out of him. He cringes, feels the fluid trail out of his asshole, clenches around nothing.

He’s still panting as Snake finally moves back, pries the hand off his face. The expression he bears is impossibly neutral, and it pisses Kaz off immediately. He starts to rise up on his elbows, before he’s pushed onto his back with the silent instruction to stay there. 

Kaz sighs. “I can’t believe you came already.” 

“Hn. You felt good.”

“そっか?” That at least makes him blush at his slip up, makes him look away. For a moment, until his cock makes itself noticed. “Ah, s-so, what, you’re just going to leave me hanging?”

Snake doesn’t answer. Turns away.

Kaz groans. Lays back, cock bobbing against his stomach, almost painfully hard. This little voice starts in the back of his mind, this little vindictive thing, and he can’t keep it from escaping his mouth, despite his better judgment. 

“I guess that explains your lack of experience with the ladies, Boss. I think I found the _one_ thing you’re not really all that good at.”

“Or maybe you just make yourself too available, Kaz.”

He scoffs, tries not to take it too personally. Fails. He crosses his arms with a huff as he looks away. “Hey, you’re the one who scaled up a building to be here. Not me.”

“You say that like it was hard.”

“Well, _something’s_ hard.” 

After a moment, Kaz slithers a hand down his belly to wrap around his cock, give it a few light tugs. His eyes dart to the broad form of Snake’s back, waits for him to stop him. When he doesn’t move to do so, Kaz tightens his grip around the foreskin, starts to work it back and forth. 

Kaz is just starting to get back into it, flinches as Snake is suddenly looming over him again, eye transfixed on his face. 

He pushes back a little, kicks at him. “Go away.”

“ _Kaz_ ,” he says, in that playful tone. Simultaneously annoying and endearing.

He sighs. “Boss. Come on already.”

“You know what you have to do.”

“Fuck. Fuck, just-- eat my ass.” His voice comes out harsh, wrecked, and God, asking for it out loud makes him want to die. He swallows, leans back onto his elbows. Raises his knees, thighs coming closer to his chest. “Please.”

His boss’ lone eye clouds over, hearing those words, the need so unguarded in his voice. Kaz looks at him uneasily, can’t control the desire in his eyes.

Still, as Snake lowers to his belly, Kaz puts a foot on his shoulder to push him away, tease him. He gives up as soon as those big hands shove his thighs his back, his boss sliding down between his legs, his eyes dark with lust.

For some reason he knew he’d never really let him down, for _some reason_. As much pain as his boss had caused him, he fucking _trusts_ Snake, trusts him with his hand on a gun, a hand on his neck, crushing around his heart forcing the life to ooze out between his fingers. He’s never felt this way about another person, never given this much of himself up before. He moans for him as Snake's mouth finds his hole, licks the cum out of him, his own hand on his cock working fiercely to bring him to glorious completion.

“Oh, fuck, oh _fuck_ \--”

His hand snaps out to grip Snake’s hair, and it’s quickly caught in a bruising grip, twisting his wrist. For some reason that’s the final push he needs, the threatening crack of his bones, and his breath dies in his throat, comes out in pained gasps as he comes all over his own hand. 

Snake only releases him as he starts to calm down, gain control over himself, his boss nuzzling his face over his cock and balls. Always cleaning up his messes.

It’s nothing new to have Snake slink back up his body to pry open his mouth open, spit between his parted lips, give him a taste. It’s mostly ejaculate, and he can’t help but moan as Snake actually kisses him again, feeds the flavor into his mouth. Kaz grips the back of his head in thick handfuls of hair, tugs Snake on top of him, feels his weight holding him down.

He almost laughs when Snake slaps his face, lighter this time, shoves him away. They scuffle for a moment, before he sits up, shoving his boss off him. He wants the contact, but he’s not going to whine at him like a girl or anything. He just leans back into the pillows, watches him light a fresh cigar.

Kaz feels his chest start to flutter, and hell if he isn’t actually anxious. For once, he doesn’t know what to say or do, just sort of awkwardly lays there watching. He pulls his knees up closer to his chest, decides it doesn’t look that manly, so just sort of sprawls out on his back. Obnoxiously takes up as much room as he can, the back of his hand grazing Snake’s hip.

His boss looks over, cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. “What?”

“Is that all you ever have to say?”

“You want me to say something else?”

“I guess,” he says, flippantly.

“You were right.”

“I was-- what?”

“What you were saying earlier, about letting people see you... vulnerable.” His gaze lowers. “I think I understand what you meant.”

“Uh… you do?”

“Yeah. You need to work on your grapple.” He pulls the cigar from his mouth, points it at him with a glower. “It was too easy to pin you down.”

“Oh fuck off.” He punctuates this by nailing his boss in the back of the head with a pillow. 

Snake retaliates, shoves him to the bed, holding him down by the neck until he admits defeat with a smile. When he begrudgingly relaxes, Snake pulls him upright, sets him to the floor on his feet. Placing him, like a pawn. Bends him over for inspection, it’s all part of the game.

The early morning brings the sound of cars, people in the city streets. They dress silently, the sun starting to beam through the window as it rises in the distance. Kaz winces, until Snake hands him his shades, and the world resumes its thankfully duller focus. He can’t even get a proper word in before his boss is half hanging out the window, looking down at the alley below. 

Kaz slides his fingers onto the ledge, stays close. He just wants to be close.

Snake turns to look at him, and he can barely stay standing under the intensity of that look. “Meeting point. Fifteen minutes.”

“Right.”

Snake turns to leave, but Kaz reaches out, grabs him by the upper arm despite every part of his pride screaming at him in revolt. “H-hey, wait, Snake.”

“Yeah?”

He freezes up, awkwardly shoves the offending hand back into his pocket, has no idea what he wants to say. “It’s nothing. Never mind. Just go.”

He regards Kaz with a puzzled look for a moment. Then smiles, this dark thing smudged across his face. “I see.”

Snake reaches for his chin, and Kaz holds steady, swallows as his thumb settles on the dimple of his chin. His fingers brush the side of his cheek, and even if he tries so fucking hard to resist it, he can’t help but turn in, his mouth brushing the inside of Snake’s wrist. 

“Still too proud to ask, huh?”

This noise leaves him as lips press against his own. It’s chaste and dry, chapped lips, his beard tickles. For some reason, it’s his favorite part of the night. He didn’t even have to ask. 

“You earned it.”

He’s gone before he has a chance to respond. It’s then that Kaz finally remembers how to breathe. Mostly. 

It takes him a moment to come back to himself. He pats down his pockets with a shaking hand, does a final check. He makes a thoughtful noise as he skims his breast pocket, unearths a business card that wasn’t there before. 

He turns it in his fingers, but it’s completely blank. Interesting. The man in the stairway…

Kaz runs his thumb over the sheen of the thick paper. Expensive. Feels the small, letterpressed grooves under his thumb. Encryption, maybe, some sort of cipher.

He pockets it again. Best to keep it from his boss until he knows for certain what it is.

Best to keep it to himself, until he knows just how much leverage it might give him.

* * *

They pick up another job that puts Snake a few days out. He takes a small team, a few vehicles, and while they don’t exactly have the heavy weaponry required to take out a tank unit, his boss is nothing if not resourceful. Kaz stays back to take care of the base, deal with the rank and file, offer radio support, manage the squads. It gives him the added benefit of addressing the card without his boss hanging over his shoulder at every turn.

He tries covering the card with paper, scribbling over it to try to bring out the impressions, but it’s gibberish. It’d be too easy. He starts going through books, it has to be some sort of code, some other language. 

On the second day straight, he sets a drink on the edge of the card. When he pulls it back, part of the text has changed position. Interesting.

Fully submerging it in water reveals more of the cryptology. Romaji, it seems, some English. Someone would have to know him, have to be following him to know about his heritage. Kaz isn’t really sure if the tightness in his chest is fear or excitement. If someone’s been keeping tabs on him or his boss or MSF for this long, stayed in the dark _this long_ , they’d have to be powerful.

With all the code transcribed from the card, he’s able to discern that it’s 九七式欧文印字機, unused since the Americans had cracked it in the second world war. Used primarily for diplomacy-- interesting, funny, even, someone trying to be diplomatic with him, instead of just choking him into submission. More refined, maybe, than his boss. 

A long-distance phone call to a guy he knew from the JSDF, bribe money extracted out of some foreign accounts Snake doesn’t exactly know about, and he’s got it fully encrypted. He laughs down at his pencil scrawl, his coffee stains on the paper, just loses it over his little ace in the hole, so jacked up on caffeine and anxiety he can’t even see straight.

It’s a phone number. Just a fucking phone number.

He writes it out on a notepad a few times, commits it to memory, then burns everything. Best not to leave a paper trail.

It’s evening, Snake due back in only a few hours, when he finally works up the nerve to call. He’s on his last reserves of willpower, days without sleep, as he dials the number, chews on the end of his pen as it starts to ring.

After what feels like an eternity, the line picks up. Kaz waits for an agonizing moment, breath stopped short in his chest, before finally blurting, “Hello?” 

“Three days from today,” comes a modulated voice, “there will be an associate of mine seated in the back corner of the establishment you frequented in Cartagena two months ago with your boss. The password is, ‘Which card is stacked in Solitaire’s deck?’ and ‘“The Lovers.”’ You will come alone. He will wait for you until midnight. If you tell your boss about this conversation, you shall never hear my voice again. A pity, as this could prove quite lucrative for you and your new business venture. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Three days. Don’t be late.”

“Who are--”

The other line goes dead before he can finish speaking. He’s already committed the instructions to memory, mouth already watering at the prospect of money. At the prospect of _leverage_. Something to hold over Snake’s head, something to drag him out from underneath his shadow.

He doesn’t even have time to be properly excited about it, can’t calm his nerves, as one of the men bursts into the ramshackle office. Kaz slams the phone back onto the receiver a hair too fast, practically leaps out of his chair. 

“What is it?”

“Commander, one of our scout units was ambushed.”

“Shit.”

The medical tent hums with activity, people moving in and out, gauze and bandages. Bodies. There’s already two of their men in bags outside of the primary tent, an insurgent with a gunshot wound in custody awaiting treatment, another two of their guys in surgery.

He knows all of their names. Their real ones. One of the dead men, Luis-- he’d come willingly, lured in by the promises his boss made, that there was always a reason to keep fighting. That he had a second chance at finding out why. 

Just to get shot out in the jungle. Dying like a dog, dying for _nothing_.

He can’t even think about the phone call, can’t think about Snake, busy analyzing every possible mistake. He hadn’t had enough men out there, hadn’t surveyed the area well enough. Didn’t know the terrain well enough. He was their commander this was _his fault_ this happened. And he’d been off fucking around with phone calls with shady contacts, seeing only dollar signs, trying to find a way to undercut his boss. Absorbed with his own petty motivations, while his men were dying in the jungle. What the hell kind of commander was he?

It wasn’t like anyone hadn’t died in his unit before. Hell, Snake had _killed_ his men before, tried to kill him, and for some reason he can barely stand upright, feels his guts crawl. MSF is home, now, these men are his to take care of. He’d failed them. He’d failed _Snake_.

Only one patient makes it. The medic reaches a bloodied hand for his shoulder when he gives him the news, but Kaz weaves away. He takes off for his tent, desperately needing some time to form his apologies before Snake’s impending arrival.

All he manages to form is his hand to a bottle. He’s good and drunk by the time his boss darkens the doorway, drunk enough that he can barely raise his head off the table. He only gets halfway there, face shoved into the crook of his arm, grunts vaguely as Snake steps in close to him. 

“Heard what happened.”

A big hand touches down near his head, and Kaz watches his boss spread the personnel files he’s been busy closing out. Snake hums thoughtfully, then sits down into the chair next to him, leans back. Sparks a cigar.

Kaz mostly comes up onto his elbows, wipes a hand over his mouth. He can barely drag his gaze up to look at his boss, grateful he can hide the shameful glint in his eyes behind the shades.

“Sorry, Boss… drank a little too much.”

Kaz sits back in the chair, arms loose at his sides, stomach rolling. So maybe he drank a _lot_ too much. Snake grins at him, cigar out the side of his mouth, moves in closer like he’s inspecting him. Assessing him for weakness.

“Kaz…” That chiding tone, the edge of affection in his voice. It’s too much. 

Kaz tenses, prepares to be lectured, even if the world seems faded around the edges. He’d drunk far too much. He pushes the bottle further away.

There’s this part of him that just wants to slide onto Snake’s lap, curl into him. Allow himself a bit of comfort. But they’re not like that, they’re never going to _be_ like that, and he isn’t going to let Snake see him like that. Hell, he would never treat him like that anyway, so he just bottles that down, keeps it somewhere deep inside where he can ignore the constant sting. He doesn’t want to be held. He can do this by himself.

Kaz sucks in a deep breath, slides a hand under his shades to rub at his bloodshot eyes. “I know, Boss. I need to do better.”

“Do better?”

“I was distracted. It’s my fault.”

“You can’t control everything.”

“But I can do better than this.”

Kaz looks up, holds his gaze, for a long, unbearable moment. The look on Snake’s face isn’t what he expects, not nearly as patronizing, just this open look of curiosity. Needing to understand. It’s so searching, so profound, that he has to look down, look away. 

“You’ve lost men before, Kaz. Hell, _I_ killed them.”

“That wasn’t the same, it’s--”

“And every single one of ‘em knew what they signed on for.” He slides the cigar to the side of his mouth, then leans forward, a big palm coming to settle on Kaz’s shoulder. His thumb strokes back and forth over the curve of his clavicle, squeezes. “You need to stop making everything about you.”

He looks down into his hands, spreads them open, feels like there’s ash slipping between his fingers. “They were our guys, you know? Like we’re responsible for keeping them all alive.”

“It’s combat.”

“They died because of my fuckup. They died because of me.” 

He could make it mean something. If they just had enough money, if they could get big enough, he could make it _mean_ something. Something real. There had to be something _real_ about what they started together, God, he wants to believe in it with every fibre of his being. Even with all the secrets they keep between them. MSF is his home.

“They died fighting because they wanted to fight. It’s what they wanted.” He leans in, his voice almost a growl. “Now stop beating yourself up about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Probably sound like a real asshole right now.” He cracks a grin, but it’s just fucking sad, and he knows it.

“No, it’s--” He breaks off, his hand jumping away from Kaz like he’s been burned. “I don’t like it when you’re... like this.”

They sort of sit there in the wake of that because, oh, God, Snake had just admitted to caring about his _feelings_ in some shape or form. Snake at the very least seems self conscious about it, takes a deep inhale of his cigar, keeps it in the slot of his fingers as he breathes smoke. Kaz makes a point to reach for the bottle, pour himself another glass, something to do with his hands so they can move as far from that moment as possible. 

Still, it does give him an angle, his boss caring about his emotional state. Hell, even if it just makes him uncomfortable. It’s exciting knowing he has this hook in him, wants to know how deep it goes.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Boss.” 

“You haven’t let me down so far.”

He blinks behind his shades, incredulous. He hadn’t expected that. “Shit... really?” 

“Yeah. You’re a good at this… business stuff.”

It’s too much, this honest, fumbling praise. The weird look on Snake’s face, blurry as it is with the booze. Kaz wants to soak it up, wants to melt into him. Good business partner he is, pulling all the strings he had to try and stab him in the back.

“What, ‘cause I can do basic division without having to use my hands?”

Snake gestures with the cigar in his hand, eyes light. “That was one time.”

“I’m-- yeah.” He chances a look at Snake’s face, holds his gaze. “We do make a pretty good team, don’t we? You and me.”

“When you’re not all in your head like this, yeah. We do.”

Kaz shrugs, tries to ignore the butterflies in his chest, reaches for his glass again. It’s not the brightest idea he’s ever had to get wasted in the wake of such a new and dangerous secret, but the alcohol numbs the uneasy feelings. Numbs out the hollow parts inside.

He’d half expected Snake to beat the shit out of him for letting his men die, but this… this is nice. It doesn’t exactly fix every problem, but just sitting there, not having to be alone with his thoughts, it helps.

The glass is plucked from his hands before it can touch his lips. His eyes trace where Snake raises it to his own mouth, throws it back. His eyes crinkle as the booze hits his throat, and he lets the glass hit the table too hard. 

“I think you’ve had enough. You really want the men to see you this way?”

He still has to get back to the tent. Halfway across the camp. God. He runs a hand through his hair, knocks his shades off his face in the process. Tries to look cool even as they skitter across the floorboards.

When he oozes out of his chair to retrieve them, he almost tips the table. Snake manages to catch it before the contents all tumble off, and he falls back into the seat, shades in hand, exhales noisily.

“Okay. I think it’s past your bedtime, Commander.” Snake stands, stubs out the remains of his cigar in the ashtray. Kaz regards him with a watery smile. 

Snake reaches for him, pulls him up out of the chair, taking his arm over his shoulders to keep him upright. Kaz all but sags into the side of him, and he’s so warm, smells clean. Changed his uniform after the mission, then. Maybe did it just for him.

He’s aware he’s been standing there, quiet for too long when Snake nudges him. He loses his balance, God, he’d really drank that much, but his boss steadies him with a hand to his chest. 

“Come on,” Snake murmurs, low in his ear. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”

Kaz huffs, sags against him. “Just-- move it already.”

They trudge through the camp along one of the darker paths, and Kaz mostly looks at the ground. He can vaguely make out a few of the men on watch eyeballing the pair of them, but it’s hard enough to focus on where his feet are taking him, let alone other people.

“I’m actually... pretty drunk,” he admits, stumbling a bit as they round a corner. 

“You don’t say.”

Kaz sucks in a deep breath. 

“You gonna puke?”

“No,” he says. Takes another uneasy breath. Then, “Yes.”

Snake steers him behind a denser bit of foliage, out of the view of the patrol. He’s thankful his boss cares about his dignity, at least. He bends over to spit on the ground, his whole body feeling hot and cold at the same time, skin sweaty, stomach in knots.

His throat prickles in warning, hand slipping as he tries to grasp a tree for purchase. Snake steadies him, and he almost recoils, not wanting to be seen like this, not by _him_. 

He’d gone and done this to himself, anyway. Made a fucking mess, all on his own. He curls in on himself as his gut crawls, wipes a clammy hand over his forehead, before he just can’t control it anymore, leans over to unleash the contents of his stomach.

It mostly tastes like booze coming up, stomach acid, and he can’t keep his eyes and nose from running furiously as he retches. He can feel Snake watching him the entire time, as another shudder runs through his body, more liquid crawling up his esophagus, violently leaving his mouth.

When he finally stands, he’s shaking, has to stumble to lean against the tree to catch himself. Snake’s hands clamp down on his shoulders, keep him still. He reaches for the hem of Kaz’s shirt, raises it to help wipe the vomit off his mouth. 

Kaz smears his own hand over his eyes, his nose, vaguely coughs. Swallows furiously, tries to keep it down. He’s so aware of how close his boss is. His mouth tastes disgusting. He just wants to lay down, it would just be so nice to close his eyes, hide his face in Snake’s chest. Be held. Maybe.

“Boss!”

Kaz immediately tenses, terrified of being seen, of someone knowing, but Snake’s broad palm covers his chest, holds him upright. He focuses himself on the feeling of that hand, centers himself around it. With the sweat rapidly cooling on his clammy skin, his nervous system revolting, it feels good to be touched like that. Taken care of.

Snake looks over at the patrol, nods. “As you were.”

The soldier glances at him uneasily. Just on patrol, just doing his job. He can’t leave fast enough. “Is-- is something wrong with the commander?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s in good hands.” 

“O-of course, Boss.”

Snake gestures with a jerk of his head, keeps his hands steady on Kaz’s shoulders, even as he’s collapsing under his own weight. “Move along.”

There’s a brief minute where they just stand there, Kaz wiping at his bleary eyes. His boss stands stone still, just watching the soldier retreat, before he steps away, drawing Kaz’s arm back over his shoulders. 

His stomach lurches as he props himself against Snake’s body. He isn’t sure if it’s the amazement that his boss had protected his dignity, or because he has to puke again.

He swallows down bile. Maybe a little of both.

The inside of their tent is like opening the gates to heaven. He’d melt to the ground if not for Snake holding him upright, falls onto his ass as soon as he’s dropped to his bed. He leans back. Everything spins.

“Sleep it off, Kaz.”

His boss starts to turn away, but he reaches out, grabs him by the belt. He hasn’t even thought it through, but for some reason, he doesn’t want to be alone. He makes this little noise as Snake comes in closer, and he comes up onto one elbow, reaches for Snake’s shirt to tug him down to his level. 

His depth perception off, he moves in too quick, their foreheads knocking. He can taste the staleness of Snake’s breath, the lines of his eyepatch bleeding into his skin this close. 

“Hey… Boss,” Kaz slurs, eyes glazing over as he stares at his mouth, “do you wanna fool around?”

Snake tenses, grips his wrist to ease him back down onto the bed. He doesn’t let go, curls his fist tight into the fabric, doesn’t release his hold even as Snake settles a knee down next to him to steady himself. 

His brows furrow. “You want to? Now?”

“I know I made a real mess today. I wanna make it up to you.” His fingers start to move, start to undo the first few buttons on Snake’s uniform, before his hand spasms in Snake’s suddenly brutal grip. “Ah, fuck!” 

“You don’t get to use this to ease your guilty conscience,” he snarls, looking him dead in the eyes, “Not with me.”

He pulls him in closer, their noses brushing. “Then what if it’s just because I want you?”

Snake doesn't respond. Just looks at him.

Kaz chews the inside of his lip, pulls another button free. “Can you just… come here?”

There’s a moment, where he seems to consider. Then, Snake releases his hand, starts to undress. The way he sheds his clothes is perfunctory, almost detached, and Kaz watches until he can’t stand it, reaches for his own shirt. It gets stuck over his head, and he flails for a moment, before Snake tugs it off, this weird look on his face that Kaz might call fond. But only if he didn’t know any better, didn’t know exactly who his boss is, down to his bones.

He mostly manages to kick off his pants and briefs by himself, still in his socks, when Snake finally lays on top of him, arms settling on either side of his head. Their chests touch, he can feel every inch of skin, the comforting weight crushing him down. 

It’s just so hot all of a sudden, he’s suffocating, and Snake doesn’t even try to kiss him. Just goes straight for the jugular, mouth covering his throat, biting in, and he gasps, hands flying up to try to push him back. Instead, he wraps his arms around Snake’s back, just holds him there as he darkens a mark into his skin with his mouth, flattens his tongue against the offending bruise like an apology.

He’s drunk enough that just laying there seems like the best idea, letting Snake drag his mouth down the bones of his clavicles, the smooth skin of his chest. He bites a nipple, makes him arc into it, pulls at the other until they harden into fine points. 

He even raises his arms up when prompted, toes curling as Snake presses his nose into the golden hair in the hollow there, breathing in. Kaz’s fingers find the ridges of his spine, up the curve of his neck, slides his hands into his dark hair. The noise his boss makes at that touch makes him pull him in closer, his thighs sliding up to cradle his hips. 

God, if he could just stay like this forever, that would be okay. Freeze this moment, somehow. Someway. 

It’s never going to get any better than this. There’s this weird feeling that this is all temporary, like this is going to be taken away. His fingers start to curl into Snake’s skin, his hair, and his stomach does this flip that makes him feel vaguely nauseated again. 

It’s just fucking around. He’s just doing it to make sure he has the upper hand. That’s all. 

And yet it’s not, it can’t be all, not with Snake in his arms like this means something, holding him like this. 

He must have gone too quiet, because after a moment, Snake stops, looks up at him in vague amusement. “You better warn me if you’re gonna get sick again.”

“I’m fine,” Kaz snaps, and it’s just a little too fast, he can tell by the steady rise of Snake’s eyebrow. Kaz pulls his hair, tries to push him lower, get him to stop giving him that knowing look. “I’m fine, just keep going.”

“If you say so.”

Snake works his way down his sternum, fingers tracing the path his mouth makes. He bites hard, sucking marks into his abs, makes Kaz tense up through the pain, and it goes straight to his head. His boss knows what he needs, more than anyone, makes him feel something he can only start to approach when he’s like this. Anything, just to stay here, for just a little longer.

His mouth brushes up against the sensitive curve of his hip, and Kaz’s belly curls inward, and he laughs. Snake nips the edge of his hipbone, presses his face into his pubic hair, kisses the base of his dick.

He’s still mostly soft. God, he really had too much to drink.

Looking down, Kaz feels his whole face go tight. He turns his away, hides behind his hand, even as Snake pushes his legs apart, settles between them. Makes it even more obvious that his body isn’t reacting how he wants it to.

“Boss,” he mumbles, “I-- I swear this never happens to me.” He laughs uneasily, drags his hand down his face, can’t even look at him without feeling like he wants to die. “You can still fuck me if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Is that really what you think I want?”

“I--” He swallows thickly, stares out at nothing. “You can… hurt me. If it would help.”

He pauses. “You think you deserve to get hurt?”

“Yes.”

Snake considers him for a moment, and Kaz does his best to pry his eyes away, to shrink under the intensity of that look. Still, when a hand eases under his chin, forces him to meet his gaze, he can’t help but give him this _look_. Channels all of his misery into it, everything he wants to say but can’t. Everything he still can’t admit to himself, that maybe this is more to him than anything else in his life, ever before. 

“No,” Snake murmurs.

His lips part, his boss leaning down over him, dark and dangerous.

“I’m not gonna let you use this as an escape. You don’t get to go anywhere I can’t reach you.” 

The hand slips down his jaw, cups the front of his throat. Holds him down.

“Please fuck me,” is what crawls out of Kaz’s throat. “I need it.” _I need you_. He can’t say it.

He can barely stand himself, just wants his boss close, wants him inside, wants him filling every empty space inside of him. He’ll let Snake subsume him entirely. Just to be near.

The way Snake looks at him at his confession, it’s not quite disgust-- maybe pity. He’s not sure what makes him feel worse. This hopeless thing starts to gather in his chest, this pressure in the base of his throat, and he swallows a few times, tries to push it down.

Things go blurry for a moment as he tries to reign in his traitorous mind, and he’s vaguely aware of something wet and slippery at his ass, his thighs pushed up to his chest. Snake’s fingers pushing and probing inside of him. His dick gives a feeble twitch, and it’s so humiliating he takes this shuddering breath, covers his face again. 

“Kaz.”

One of those wide fingers slides into his ass, and he shakes, clamps down around it. He almost can barely feel it, he’s so wasted, shakes his head. “Put another one in.”

He does. It burns, but the pain centers him, makes him push back against his hand. Take him deeper. Kaz can see him watching his face through his parted fingers, and it pisses him off that he looks this weak, that he can’t seem to figure out how to get ahold of himself. That he needs his boss so badly.

He reaches downward for Snake’s cock with his free hand, finds it hard and wet at the tip, ready for him. “Come on.”

“You’re not ready yet.”

“I’m drunk, it doesn’t matter. Won’t feel it.”

“Kaz--”

“Just put it in.”

There’s this long, horrible pause where he thinks his boss will just get up and walk away. But he doesn’t. Just gently eases his fingers out of the tight grip of Kaz’s asshole, pushes his legs back. 

“Fine.”

It occurs to him that this is the first time they’ve really fucked like this. Him on his back, Snake on top of him, cradled between his legs. Like they’re a couple, like they’re ‘making love’ or something. 

The backs of his eyes burn. When the head of his cock pushes up against his ass, he sucks in a breath, tries to relax. 

Snake gives him a moment before he starts to push in. He tenses, squirms away at the intense pressure, even as Snake grips his hips, pulls him down. It fucking hurts, like he’s being ripped apart, like he’s being eviscerated. The pain is worse in his chest, that this is the closest he’ll get to actually mattering to someone else, that no matter what he does he’ll never be able to dislodge _her_ place in his heart. That this is the closest he’ll ever get to him.

He feels the threatening prickle of tears in his eyes, draws in this shaky breath. Snake pushes into him, and he tries desperately to stay there, in that moment, but he can’t help but see his mother’s face when she’d asked him who he was. Her eyes searching his face, trying to find him somewhere beneath the masks he wore.

He can’t contain it. The first sob just rocks through him, and he chokes into his hand, crushes his mouth into his palm to try to muffle it. His boss’ hand slides down his neck, his chest. Touches that could be soothing, if he was anyone else. 

Snake pulls back. Fucks deeper into him, he arches off the bed, God, it _hurts_ and his mouth opens, everything feels wet and angry and he can’t keep the tears back. He can’t stop the quiet, horrible noises he’s making, even if he tries not to make it obvious. He’s so fucking weak.

After a moment, Snake stops. His hand slides up Kaz’s neck, untangles the fingers gripped tight to his face. His brows crease in confusion. 

“Are you… crying?”

“No,” Kaz bites out, eyes clenched shut.

Those strong hands pin his wrists to the bed, reveal his mottled face, the wetness under his eyes and nose. Kaz coughs, tries to turn away, but Snake watches him with this bold interest, like he’s never seen anything like this before. Kaz can feel his cock swell inside of him, feels him rock in, their mouths so close together.

“Why?”

“分からない.” Fresh tears spill from his eyes, and he tries to force it to stop, but he just _can’t_ and he’s so fucking humiliated. He wants to die, would rather be dead than have Snake see him this way. “分からない.”

“Kaz--”

“I don’t _know_ , okay?”

He takes a shaky breath, tries to push it down. But it just takes over. Kaz cries like a child, openly weeping underneath his boss, unable to cover his face or hide away from him. Snake stares at him, and he tenses, squirms underneath him in discomfort. 

His cock slips out, and Snake just puts his weight down, keeps him still while the sobs wrack through him. He knows he looks hideous, hair a mess, face red, eyes and mouth swollen and red with just how hard he’s crying. So pathetic, he’s _so fucking pathetic_.

When he finally stops, when he’s finally able to get his breathing under control, it’s like the world’s caved in on itself. Like he’s outside of himself, somehow. He lays there in a daze, face wet, tastes the salt on his tongue, open mouth gasping. He can’t do this anymore.

“Feel better?” Snake murmurs, releasing the grip on his wrists. His fingers tingle as the blood returns, and he wipes a hand over his face, tries to pull himself together. It doesn’t really work.

“I wish I was dead right now. I wish you’d killed me.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Of course it is. He’s made a fucking idiot of himself. He keeps a hand on his forehead, wanting to hide his eyes, but Snake just keeps staring down at him with that neutral expression that drives him fucking crazy. He just wants to know what he’s thinking. What he feels. If he can feel anything at all.

Snake peels his hand away, doesn’t give him any space to hide. He’s all but forced to look back at him, and it’s so deep he can’t tear himself away.

“Ah,” Snake murmurs, “I think I found him, after all.”

“Found who?”

“The ‘real’ Kazuhira Miller.”

A strangled laugh escapes him. “Shit. Thought I killed him ages ago.”

“I’m glad that you didn’t.”

Snake’s thumb grazes the hard line of his jaw, the dimple in his chin to hold him still. He leans very carefully over his face, eye moving like he’s memorizing every eyelash, every freckle, every pore. 

“You don’t show anyone else this side of you. This is mine.”

This shot of something goes through his spine, every part of him devouring the words. He’s a man possessed, this part of him that belongs to his boss. He can’t stop looking at him, reaches for him, his hand moving of its own volition, slipping under the edge of his eyepatch. 

Kaz pushes it back before Snake can stop him, he doesn’t even _try_ to stop him. The leather edges back, catching on the ridges of his face, and Kaz feels him bristle as it finally slides free. 

He’s seen every scar, mapped them with this fingertips when allowed, but this… this is by far the ugliest thing on his entire body. His eye a milky blue, it’s unsettling, the skin surrounding warped and tight where it’s healed over. His truth.

Snake chuckles, looks down at him, darkly. “Now we’re even.”

Kaz doesn’t know what to do at his words, what to say, where to put his arms but they just find their way around Snake’s shoulders, pull him back down. When their lips meet it’s barely a kiss, and his lungs feel all tight again, his mouth waters, but he’s not going to cry again, he won’t. He’s just getting what he wants.

They kiss until it’s too much, until every nerve is on fire. Kaz pulls himself bodily away, but his boss is so overwhelming, vast and endless as the outer stratosphere, he can’t help but be drawn to him, can’t help but reach down between them to circle his hand around his cock. 

Snake’s hips jump in his hand, and he’s still hard and aching, hot to the touch. It at least brings back a bit of his confidence, and he boosts up onto one elbow, working Snake’s cock in the tight tunnel of his hand.

“You want to finish this?” Kaz asks.

“Are you even gonna get anything out of it?”

“Does it matter?” He snarls, suddenly furious that Snake would treat him any differently after seeing him that way. Like he’s _weak_. “You’re a man, aren’t you? Take what you want.” 

That seems to hit him somewhere that matters, his eyes darkening at the challenge thrown down before him. Snake grips the back of his knees, spreads him, and Kaz just breathes. Tries not to lose himself entirely.

When Snake pushes back into him, it’s too tight, his ass can’t handle, but he doesn’t want it to stop, doesn’t want to let him go. If some part of him is owned by Snake, hell, maybe all parts of him, he can take back these little pieces and wring gold out of them. Spinning truth out of lies, all that money and power, he’s the only person who deserves to be here, pinned at the bottom of his boss’ pedestal.

He can’t take him all the way, doesn’t want to say anything, but Snake doesn’t push into him all in one go, thrusts slow and shallow, lets him adjust to the size. Kaz’s cock doesn’t even get hard, but he can’t be embarrassed as Snake lowers his weight onto his chest, holds him down. His legs hold Snake’s hips between the cradle of his thighs, his arms wrapping around his back.

Face tucked into the arch of his neck, Snake fucks him deeper with every stroke inward, harder until the cot is shaking. He clenches his eyes shut, takes it, focuses on the rhythmic breathing in his ear, their chests slipping against each other, his boss’ cock stretching him and filling him so deep. God, he’s so deep. 

“Yeah, come on,” he mutters, senselessly, his hand cupping the back of Snake’s skull. “Fuck me, come inside of me.”

There’s a hitch in his breathing, and Snake pushes his legs back, gets his hips higher, and he almost chokes as Snake’s hands go tight on his upper thighs, nails digging in to draw blood. Kaz locks his jaw, holds him tight as the muscles in Snake’s back start to ripple under his fingers, and he makes a strangled sound close to his ear that just brings the tears back to his eyes. Yes, _yes_.

It’s like nothing else he’s ever experienced, holding his boss while he’s coming inside of him. His fingers sweep over Snake’s broad shoulders in strokes, and Kaz doesn’t stop even after he stops shaking, just breathing against him. It just feels good, having him there, being with him. Being together. Knowing him.

Kaz stops, after a moment. Stares up at the underside of the tent. 

Oh no. 

When Snake finally rolls off him, Kaz doesn’t react. He’s vaguely aware of the wet feeling between his legs, the renewed dampness on his face. He wipes it off, tries to pull himself together.

Snake’s back faces him, and he crosses his arms over his chest to keep himself from reaching out. Snake looks over his shoulder, back down to his face, his eyepatch firmly back in place. Their respective masks, returned.

Kaz swallows, shifts to sit up. He’s pushed onto his back again, immediately starts to protest. He’s not going to lay around while there’s so much of his own mess to clean up. 

“Hey--”

“You can afford a few hours to sleep off the rest of the booze. Don’t make me pin you down, Kaz.”

It’s practically an invitation to push back, so Kaz tries to sit up again, finds Snake’s arm over his chest, leg pinning his own. They tussle for a moment, twist around each other, until it’s almost comfortable to have their bodies intertwined like this. Until he kind of just wants to stay there.

There’s this part of him, this little voice that he ignores that tells him that this is going to destroy him. There’s something louder that says it’s worth it. 

He fights back just to feel his arms tighten around his body again. “Stay.” 

Like he’s a dog. Heel. Speak. Play dead.

Kaz scoffs, drives an elbow back. “I just have to take a piss. Lemme up.”

It’s almost like Snake pushes down on his lower abdomen on purpose, and Kaz fidgets, tightens all over, until he’s finally released, let free. Kaz feels the heaviness of his gaze on the backs of his shoulders as he fumbles into his fatigue pants, a t-shirt, unlaced boots. Feels it as he stands, tracing the slope of his back, the curve of his ass. He can hardly stand it.

He pads out of the tent, out into the open air, out where he can breathe again. It’s darker than the lowest echelons of hell, the night carved out into something sinister, aching with promise. Wet summer air coats his lungs, tears blistering hot in his eyes.

He should just run. He’s never getting out of this. He should just run, he could run, but he _wants_ this.

Finally, his breathing calms again.

Kaz wipes the tears from his eyes. Turns around. He can’t leave. He won’t leave. 

Instead, he goes back to whom he belongs. He goes home.

* * *

The coffee cup he sets down in front of his boss goes untouched. He doesn’t mind if he isn’t acknowledged, at all. He’s glad that Snake can’t see the tension in his jaw, the falter in his step, isn’t bringing attention to his weakness the previous night. 

Snake had forced him to sleep in his own bed, at least, hopefully hadn’t overheard his stifled, horrible noises long into the night. God. How pathetic.

“So, hey,” he starts, steeling himself, “I was thinking I’d go to the city by myself tomorrow. Got a potential client there.”

“Yeah, sure, Kaz.” He doesn’t look up, seems distracted. “Do what you need to do.”

“...Okay.”

It’s too easy. There must be some sort of catch. He’s never been allowed to leave the base on his own before now. 

He presses. “Might be lonely in the city without you. We had a good time together, didn’t we?”

He grunts, pulls away. “You need a babysitter or something?”

“No, no. Just saying, it’s a good memory.” 

Snake doesn’t look at him at all. 

Kaz smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

The next day finds his skin dusty, weathered from the long drive in, the sun hot on his shoulders as he walks through the burnt orange streets. In civilian clothes he looks less conspicuous, but his hair is always going to be a beacon, always going to draw attention. He mostly sticks to side streets, winds the long way through the fruit carts, the children playing on the cobblestones. He smiles at a woman hanging laundry in the heat, turns away when she doesn’t smile back.

He’s all nerves as he enters the bar, the evening just starting to set in, patrons crowding the tables. It’s like there’s a clear path to the little alcove in the back, no smoke for cover without his boss. Just a man he’s never seen, playing cards by himself.

He checks his watch, smooths down his pockets. Walks over, shoulders back, standing tall as he approaches.

“Playing all alone?” he asks as he steps up to the table, sets his hand flat on the surface. The man looks up at him, smirks.

“No one to beat you but your own cards.”

Kaz licks his lips. After a moment, repeats, “What card’s stacked in Solitaire’s deck?”

He flips his hand. Every single one, The Lovers, printed on the face of otherwise regular playing cards. Flipped again, a regular deck.

Kaz follows him out of the establishment, down into an alley, tries to keep his stance loose not to betray the anxiety he feels inside. He has so many questions, so many ideas that he’s got to keep under wraps. They don’t exactly subside when he’s led to a nondescript black car that’s too nice for the region, too tasteful, keeps him on edge the entire time.

When his companion presents him with a blindfold, he doesn’t protest. 

It’s strange not having Snake by his side to have his back. He’s nervous, not knowing where he’s going. If he’s just going to get shot at the end of this. He just has to go with his gut.

After what seems like a lifetime, the car finally stops. The man exits the driver’s side, comes around to let him out. Guides him through what feels like an endless series of hallways, until a door shuts with some finality behind him. 

It’s cold. He can hear the machine click of air conditioning, feels the give of a carpet underneath his feet. When the blindfold comes off, it’s like he’s been transported to another world-- somewhere with plush, overstuffed chairs, lacquered cherrywood desks. There’s a goddamn grandfather clock in the corner. 

Looks sort of like his dad’s house, if anything. 

Two guards, a smaller woman he’d check out if he was anywhere else, and a heavyset man approach to give him a pat down. He puts his arms out, smiles accommodatingly. “Getting friendly real quick, huh.”

She rolls her eyes, skims her palms down his arms, his torso, his legs. When she’s finished, she pushes him forward, directs him to a chair in front of the empty desk.

Kaz sits down. Waits.

A moment, and there’s a mechanical click. The painting behind the desk splits in two, pulls back to reveal a black screen, and Kaz fixes the most friendly grin he can on his face. He’d expected an in-person meeting, wanted to lay on the charm. But this, he supposes, will have to do.

The screen hums to life, an Indian-head test screen blinking a few times before centering. He tries to stay as still as he can, even if his knee wants to shake with anticipation, even if he’s dying to know what’s going on.

After a few flashes of light, the screen centers on a blacked out figure sitting at a desk. He can’t make out a face, just a silhouette. A teacup on the corner of the desk. How quaint.

“Thank you for joining me,” says the figure, and even his voice sounds like money, refined. “I understand this was quite the journey for you.”

“Hey, I’m glad to be here. Nice place." He nods. Looks from wall to wall, before looking up at the screen. "Can I ask who’s called me out all this way?”

“My name is Zero.” 

“Zero.” He pauses. “Shame we couldn’t meet in person.”

Zero chuckles, and his voice rings out through the room, his presence boundless. “As you can understand, I have many enemies. My apologies that we can’t meet in the flesh.”

“So, why _are_ we meeting?” 

“I’ve heard great things about you, Kazuhira Miller. My organization has eyes and ears all over the world.”

“And what organization would that be?”

“We’ve been called many things. You may call us ‘Cipher’.”

“Cipher. Okay.” He slings his arm over the back of his chair, feigns casual. “So... what have you heard about me?”

“Well, it’s not every day that an orphaned child of war with no combat experience to speak of, whatsoever, ends up halfway around the world with a private military organization attracting international attention. Truly, what you’ve accomplished with so little is quite.... remarkable.”

Kaz blinks for a moment, in awe, before he catches himself, clears his throat. “MSF is the way of the future. War is a business like any other. There's money to be made-- I just wanted to get in early.”

“And such insight.” Zero’s faceless head tilts onscreen, and he leans forward onto the desk, fingers steepled. The cut of his chin is just visible as the light shifts, but Kaz can’t make out anything else. “I must admit, I find you quite fascinating. I had to speak to you myself.”

He actually almost blushes. Nobody’s ever called him _fascinating_ before. Still, he shrugs it off. “Sure, I’ve got my charm, I guess.”

There’s a silence, before Zero leans in. His presence just fills up the room, makes him feel like he’s really there. 

“Take off your sunglasses. I wish to see your eyes when I speak to you.”

Kaz scowls for a moment. It’s not exactly fair, being that he can’t even see what Zero looks like, but he reaches for them anyhow. Takes them off, tosses them on the desk without overthinking it. He turns his gaze up, and Zero makes this thoughtful sound.

“Blue. Hm. Can’t say I’m terribly surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Straight to the point, then. It’s come to my attention that you are working with a former associate of mine.”

Of course it would be about Snake. He tries not to let it sour his expression, tries to keep his cool.

“That so? Funny, he’s never mentioned you.”

“I imagine he wouldn’t,” says Zero. There’s something to his voice that sounds almost regretful, and instantly Kaz sits forward, ears piqued. “About ten years ago we participated in a mission together of some international upset.”

“Operation Snake Eater, you mean.”

“Exactly. We were on the same side, once. Allies.” Zero pauses, the air in the room filling with something sincere. Then, softer, “I would even say friends.”

“Guessing that’s not the case anymore, huh.”

“How very perceptive of you,” he intones, flatly.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Regardless,” Zero continues, “your boss has made it clear he wishes to be outside of the watchful eye of my organization. Make no mistake, the various world authorities will become wary of your activity sooner or later. They will try to shut you down. I only mean to offer protection.”

“Protection?”

“By way of funding. Assets. A private army surely can’t function on the blood and sweat of men alone. You need money, vehicle support, firepower. A home base-- a place to put your roots in, grow.”

His heart immediately starts thundering, so eager at the prospect of some cold hard cash. They needed it. _He_ needed it.

“Hey, I’ve been saying that for over a year now, you don’t have to tell me,” Kaz says, winces inwardly at the edge of resentment in his voice. Snake was a wall that couldn’t be pushed. And now Zero had offered him a battering ram. “But what, I wonder, could you want in return? You don’t strike me as a philanthropist.”

“You could say that I require your services. Or rather, his.” Zero quiets for a moment, folds his hands neatly on the desk. He seems to lose himself there, looks out, murmurs, “To make the world one again.”

“Make the world one?”

“It is what we both wanted, in _her_ honor. At one time.”

“Her? You’re talking about The Boss.” This perks him up considerably. “So you know the truth, too?”

“One interpretation of the truth, yes. It’s what she would’ve wanted; the world acting under a united will. Together. I’m afraid I cannot achieve her dream without him. He’s made it quite clear he’d like nothing to do with me.” Zero gestures. “That’s where you come in.”

“I see.”

It’s then that Zero stands, supporting himself with one hand on the desk. The camera follows him, the image on the screen shifting as he paces to round the side of the desk. He stays in shadows, unseen, but the sway in his shoulders reveals his age, the fatigue in his bones.

“I understand you know Snake rather intimately. You’re close to him. In exchange for the support of my private organization, you will provide me with information pertaining to your boss. I will give you everything you could ever ask for. The sky is truly the limit.” Zero lowers his voice summarily, promising, “I can be quite generous to those who’ve earned it.”

Kaz’s eyes narrow. His pulse beats hard in his ears. “You want me to sell him out.”

“Perhaps it would appear that way, but that is not my intention,” Zero says. “Rather, I seek to lead him, with you acting as my guiding hand. You and I both know that this Cold War isn’t going to last forever. And when it ends, the world will need an icon, a legendary figure to unite under-- he is exactly the type of man for that job.”

“But he can never know?”

“Correct. Snake is an incredibly talented man. But letting go is an art he’s never quite mastered.”

A silence falls over the room. Kaz takes a breath.

“Right. Okay. Not a bad proposal.”

“I could make you a very powerful man, Kazuhira.”

“It’s tempting.” He reaches for his shades, slides them back over his nose. Gives his best cocksure grin to the screen. “But I’m nothing if not a prudent businessman-- wouldn’t be wise to accept without sleeping on it.”

“Of course.” He gestures, and the guard places another object on the table. “This device may only be unlocked by your fingerprint. When you use it, it will display a phone number for ten seconds, before it self destructs. You may reach me in that manner when you’ve made your decision.”

He reaches for it, turns it in his hand. It looks almost like the first card-- did they have a different card for everything? He hums, says, “Real high-tech. Interesting.”

“This is only a fraction of what I have to offer, I assure you. I want to see your fledgling organization grow, to see your boss at the head of an army worthy of the weight of her title.”

Kaz looks at the card, the promise at his fingertips. “To make the world one again.”

“Precisely.” Zero, onscreen, rounds back behind the desk, takes a seat. “We can discuss specifics once you’ve accepted my offer.”

“ _If_ I accept.”

“Of course.” He chuckles. “How presumptuous of me.”

“I’d best be going.” He stands, waves the card with a smile. “I’ll call you.”

“Certainly. And Kazuhira?”

“Yeah?”

“I like your watch.”

He’s suddenly aware of the the gold around his wrist. The blood in the mechanism.

“Thanks,” Kaz says, slowly, “I worked very hard to earn it.”

“I’m quite sure that you did. Goodbye, Kazuhira.”

“Zero.”

The screen flickers for a few moments, before reverting to the test screen. There’s a mechanical whir, and the painting shifts back into place. Like nothing had happened at all.

For all his boss would know, anyway, nothing had.

* * *

It’s early enough that it’s still quiet. He can hear the morningsong of the birds outside, the stirrings when the guard shift changes. Kaz thumbs through some spreadsheets, goes over the budget. Weighs his options.

They need the money. If he wants this to be anywhere near what he imagines it could be, they need the money. Working for Cipher in secret added the benefit of leverage against his boss. But he could never know.

Could he really keep it from him? If Snake found out, he’d surely kill him. Cut his head off, like he’d promised almost two years ago. Even after everything between them. Even if he lov--

He grips the front of his throat without thinking. 

There’s a clatter of the wooden door behind him, and Kaz finds his pen, goes back to his work. When a heavy arm drops over his shoulders, he expects it, looks alongside to find Snake eyeing where he’s doing shorthand in the margins. He can smell him, this close, breathes it in without thinking. 

Flustered, Kaz goes to nudge him away. “Would you get off? Some of us have important work to do.” It comes out more affectionate than he intends, so he jostles his arm in an attempt to get him to move.

Snake lets his hand fall, circles to face him. Kaz scowls at the dejected look on his face, sits back. “What?”

“Dunno.” Snake shakes his head, like he’s trying to ward off a ghost. Trying to banish something. There’s the center of a storm in his eye, barely contained, and Kaz is drawn to it like a vortex sucking him in. “Wouldn’t want to interfere with your ‘important’ work.”

“Not _that_ important,” he says, tempering his voice, “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh. _Snake_.”

He shrugs. “Just... got a bad feeling.”

Kaz fixes his face into the most neutral expression he can manage. Sets his pen down. “Yeah? How so?”

His eye goes steely, and instantly there’s this horrible, sinking feeling of dread. He _knows_. He has to know.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Yeah, Boss,” he says, swallowing the unease rising in his chest. “Anything.”

Snake leads him back to their shared tent, unsettlingly silent. Kaz half expects to get shot on arrival, this tension building inside of him as he sets foot in the tent, the flap swinging shut behind. 

Snake turns to face him, this wild look on his face. The blade of a knife in his hand reflects in the light, and Kaz braces himself. Prepares for a fight.

“Boss?”

He flips the knife in his palm, extends it to Kaz, handle first. After a moment, Kaz reaches for it, meets Snake’s eye.

“Cut me open.”

“What?”

He’s presented with a length of serrated wire. It’s masochistic to say the least, insane at the very worst. Helpful, maybe, somewhere in between. Kaz smiles weakly through the entire horrible explanation, can’t help but feel that for some reason he’s being punished. Somehow. Sweat dampens his shirt under the arms, the back of his neck, and he waits for the punchline that never comes.

When Snake faces him in the chair, shirtless, ready, Kaz leans forward in his own, mirrors him. Traces out every shape with his eyes.

Snake’s body is a weapon. With every bruise, every mark on his own bearing the cruel evidence, Kaz understands his desire to make it _real_. Something inside of him, vicious, embedded for the sheer purpose of survival. 

“Are you really sure you don’t want a medic to do this?” he asks, nervous as he picks up the knife. 

“Nobody else can know.”

Kaz bites his lip, strangely excited. “This is going to hurt.”

“I know.”

His finger traces out the line where his boss had indicated to cut, draws it down his torso, to his ribs. “This shape-- are you sure? Like a snake…”

Snake takes his wrist, pulls the knife to him, the tip at the base of his clavicle. “Stop asking. Do it.”

Kaz takes a breath. Braces his palm against Snake’s chest, puts the edge to his skin. Penetrates him with the blade.

It’s hardly the first time he’s made him bleed, but cutting into him like this, Snake not fighting back, it’s different. With every slide of the knife, his boss breathes in tightly, hands balled into fists. All the pain he’d bore his entire life, a receptor for all of that agony. This is nothing to him.

And yet, it feels so deliberate. A secret, intimate, something only the two of them would know. A scar of his own, decorating his boss’ body.

His sutures are hideous. He’s worried about infection, the foreign body beneath his skin, but Snake doesn’t let him bandage it, just stands before their dingy mirror to look. His fingers trace the shape of his new scar, and this look washes over his face, solemn, far-away.

Kaz wipes the blood off his hands with a rag, moves to stand behind him. “Good?”

He doesn’t respond.

“What you were saying, earlier-- that bad feeling… was it about anything in particular?” he asks, trying to keep his tone light. Like he isn’t being invasive. Like he doesn’t have Zero’s number in his pocket, burning like a brand.

Snake turns, then. Brushes past him, instantly dismissive.

“Things can’t stay this way forever, Kaz.”

“Boss?” 

He reaches for his shirt, back to him. “I think it's time you got your own room.”

“Okay?” His brow creases. “Did I... do something?”

“Just something somebody said to me once.” He stands tall, proud in that ratted old bandana. The blood from his chest seeps through, darkens the fabric, sticks it to his skin. “I made my choice, Kaz. Live with it.”

“Your _choice_?”

He leaves without answering. Without even acknowledging him. Kaz stands there, his blood tacky on his fingertips, his world fallen out from under his feet. 

He makes his own choice, then, too.

* * *

He flips the card in his hand. Presses his fingerprint into the impression. Digits etch into the plastic display, just as promised. He repeats the order to himself, seals it into his memory, and in ten seconds, the card dissolves into sand in his fingers, trickling down to the floor.

He waits. Reaches for the receiver with shaking hands.

He could just leave it. He could just pretend like it never happened, as if Zero was some kind of fever dream. Let it fade into the past, become a memory. Let things stay the way they are. He could.

But he won’t.

Kaz picks up the phone, and dials the number.

* * *


End file.
